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OF AN
A ID-DE-CAMP
JAMES GRANT
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0 4 6
EMORY UNIVERSITY
ADVENTURES
o
AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
BY
JAMES GRANT, Esq,
Late 62nd Regiment.
AUTHOR OF "THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER " AND "ROMANCE OF WAR."
SECOND SERIES.
LONDON:
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND CO, SOHO SQUARE.
1851.
printed by
cox (brothers) and wyman, great queen street,
lincoln's inn fields.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Chap. XXXII.—The Forlorn-hope 253
XXXIII.—A Rencontre 259
XXXIY.—Reggio.—An Impeoyisatore ... 263
XXXY.—Navarro.—Revenge ! 273
XXXYT.—The Cavallo Marino 279
XXXYII—The Race.—Galley-slaves 285
XXXYIII.—The Revolt of the Galley-
slaves 292
XXXTX.—The Three Candle-ends 297
XL.—Who is He? 305
XLI.—The Cardinal 311
XLII.—The First Penitent—The Nun 318
XLIII.—A Chance of Escape Lost 324
XLIY.—The Second Penitent — The
Cavalier 328
XLY.—The Third Penitent — The
Monk 342
XLYI.—The Monk's Story 345
XLVII.—A Narrow Escape 355
XLYIII.—Castelguelfo—The Wolf of
Amato 365
XLIX.—Happiness 372
iv contents.
page
Chapter L.—The Yilla Besieged 377
LI.—The Nuptials 385
LII.—The Tempest.—The last oe the
Hunchback 389
LIH.—A Military Honeymoon 396
LTV".—Wreck of the "Delight" 399
LY.—The Yoltigeurs.—The Mass a-
cre of Bagnara 403
LYI.—A Retreat in Square. — The
Prisoner of War 410
LYII.—The Drum-head Court-martial 415
LYIII.—Dianora. — The Forfeited
Hand 420
L3X.—The Monastery 430
LX.—The Sanctuary Yiolated 435
LXI.—Unexpected Perils 443
LXII.—Captured by the Enemy.—The
Two Generals 448
LXIH.—The Albergo. — The Bandit's
Reyenge 458
LXIY.—The Bandit's Cavern.—Recap-
ture and Deliverance 469
LXV.—Joys of a Military Honeymoon 476
LXYI.—The Siege of Scylla 480
LXVII.—The Fall of Scylla.—Conclu-
sion 484
the forlorn-hope.
253
CHAPTER XXXII.
the forlorn-hope.
At sunset the following notice was circulated:—
" Brigade Orders. — Officers desirous of leading the
forlorn-hope are requested to send in their names, without
delay, to Brigade-Major Gascoigne."
After turning over this invitation in my mind for some
time, and weighing the chances of promotion against those
of escape, I resolved not to send in my card to Gascoigue,
notwithstanding that longing for fame and distinction—a
secret craving to be the first man among the multitude,
which, in fact, is the true sentiment that makes us buckle
on the sword at first; but to lead a forlorn-hope is to
throw away one's life.
Just when the troops were getting silently under arms
in a sheltered place, near an old, gloomy, and empty con-
vent, I went to the rallying-post. The spirited cavaliere
di Castelermo earnestly requested the general to allow him
the honour of heading the dangerous enterprise; but his
services, his high courage and birth, and his commander's
cross, availed him nothing in the present instance. Sir
John politely thanked him, and hinted, as delicately as he
could, that a British officer alone could lead where British
soldiers were to follow.
" Signor Count," replied the Italian, bitterly, " there
was a time when the cross of St. John was valued more
highly—when its wearers followed none, but alone led the
way. It has pleased Fate to try us sorely, like the Tern-
plars of other days : we have been deprived of our ships,
our castles, and our possessions, of all but our name and
glory; yet I trust there is a time to come when once more
the banner of Malta will be what it was—what it has been
ever since the accursed Mussulmans captured Rhodes, the
shield of the Christian mariner, and the terror of the
African barbarian!"
The restoration of his order to all its chivalric glory and
military power, was one of Castelermo's darling themes,
and one about which he bored me for many a long hour.
Poor Marco! he was doomed never to behold the
' s
254 ADVENTUBES OB AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
realization of those gay visions of his bold and heroic
fancy.
"Yet, signor," he continued, "if I cannot lead in the
assault, I will endeavour to be the second man within the
breach."
"Young Morley, of the 20th, has sent in his name,"
said Gascoigne, who at that moment approached, with a
number of notes in his hand.
" The little fool!" muttered the general; "poor boy—
he has seen little enough of life yet, to be in such a hurry
to quit it. Does he lead the stormers ?"
" No—DundaSj of ours," replied Gascoigne, who was a
62nd man. " So you mean to lead ' the lost children' to-
night," he added to me.
"ISTo, 'faith! a company is not got every day, and "
" Your name is on my list as a volunteer, though !"
" The deuce it is!" I exclaimed, gravely; "I never
sent it to you."
" Amazing !" said he, handing me a note, written in a
hand and signed with a signature so like my own—having
every blot, turn, and dash—that I was confounded and
nonplussed.
"I never penned this note, gentlemen! Never! I
pledge my honour; it is a forgery, to lead me into un-
necessary danger."
" Singular!" said the brigade-major, puzzled.
" 'Tis the roguery of Navarro," whispered Marco ; " I
will wager a hundred crowns to a carlino, this is apiece of
his revenge."
" Dundas, there is no time for inquiry or exposure just
now," said Colonel Oswald. " "What do you propose—to
withdraw your name ?" r--
"No, I will lead the assault; and to-morrow, if I sur-
vive, shall expose this cowardly Sicilian forger, who is a
disgrace to the uniform he wears," said I, exasperated to
find myself compelled, in honour, to undertake this most
perilous and deadly duty, where the chances of escape
with life were as one to a hundred, without the glorious
credit of being a willing volunteer.
"Tallin—tie stormers," cried Gascoigne.
" Gentlemen—to your posts," cried Sir John, and I was
left almost alone. The time of attack was so close at
hand, that luckily I had little time for reflection, yet, for
a few minutes, I became grave and melancholy enough.
THE FOBLOBN-HOPE.
255
life, death, home, Bianca, wounds and agony, all floated
in confusion before me ; but these misgivings were stifled,
and a chivalric recklessness—a desperate hope—a glow of
uourage that would make one face the devil, took posses-
sion of my breast, when the stormers, two hundred in
number, selected from volunteers of the 20th, threw off
their knapsacks, blankets, and canteens, and were handed
over to me by their adjutant. For my heavy cocked-hat,
with its long staff plumes, I substituted a light foraging-
cap; for my tasselled hessians, a pair of large jack-boots.
I buckled my waist-belt tighter, examined the blade
and hilt of my sword, threw away my cigar, and gave the
word—
"Attention! Mr. Morley you will inspect the rear-
rank."
The pouches were opened, the flints and ammunition
examined by the light of the diamond-like stars ; the
orders to fix bayonets, and load with ball-cartridge, fol-
lowed. The ramrods went home on the charges with a
sullen, muffled sound, the muskets rattled, and then the
ranks became motionless and still. The bell of some dis-
tant campanile tolled the eleventh hour, and as the sound
floated away, I could hear my own heart beating, through
all its thickening pulses.
My subaltern, poor lad, looked very pale; I could per-
ceive it by the starlight.
"Morley!" I whispered, in a tart tone of surprise.
" I am thinking of my mother—she is far away, at
home," he faltered, and, colouring deeply, added, " I can-
not help these thoughts."
" Few of us will hear twelve strike," thought I, whilst
closing the ranks, and lowering the point of my sabre to
the general, to intimate that we were ready.
"Success to you, Dundas," said he. "Move on by
sections; you know the breach—at the top, the main
street. The fellows begin to scent our purpose already.
You will be ably supported; Oswald, with the 58th;
Boss, with the 20th ; De Watteville's corps is the reserve.
Forward!"
We moved off, and at the same moment the French
guns again opened on the town, worked with renewed
energy and rapidity. The rock of Scylla was shaken to
its sea-worn foundations, and the lights, flashing from
battlement and embrasure, revealed the parapets lined
256 ADVENTUEES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
with stern faces and bristling bayonets, the lofty keep
crowded with men, and its giant outline towering over the
whirling smoke which issued from the guns of the lower
works.
The windings of the shore, the peak of Monte Jaci, and
the caverns below us, rang with continual discharges of
the artillery, and the intervals were filled by the roar of
the seething surf, and its booming in the yawning depths
of Dragara, where—
" Scylla bellows from her dire abodes !
Tremendous pest! abhorred by men and gods!
Hideous her voice, and with less terror roar
The whelps of lions in the midnight hour."
Odyssey, booh xii.
The night was close and still; the frequent flashes of
the fire-arms reddened the gathered clouds, and lightened
the bosom of the ocean: the scene was grand and impres-
sive. But we had very little poetry in our hearts as we
stumbled up the rough, dark street, over which the thirty-
twos and long nines whistled incessantly, one moment
dealing death and mutilation amongst us, and the next
bringing some ruined gable or ponderous balcony thun-
dering down on our perilous line of march. With the
utmost speed we pressed forward, while Oswald followed
with his corps, and without much loss we passed the
houses, and debouched upon the ridge, when the whole
outline of the fortress burst at once upon our view. We
rushed forward to the breach under a tremendous fire,
which rained from every parapet, point, and loophole.
Magnificent and terrible was the aspect of the castle at
that moment; once more, innumerable blue lights shed
their livid and sepulchral glare on town and fortress, land
and sea, enabling the defenders to direct their fire steadily
upon us. The musketry rolled in one voluminous blaze
over breastwork and palisade, while the batteries played
with incessant rapidity, loading the air with the sound of
thunder, for the echoes, thrown back by the hills, were re-
doubled by the resounding caverns of the rock.» From
the summit of the keep to the lower walls, every point
seemed to swarm with men, and was either blazing with
light or shadowed by smoke, and bristling with fines of
flashing steel.
Before us lay the breach, foredoomed to be the death-
bed of many; it was an immense mass of loose stones,
THE FORLORN-HOPE.
257
and the ascent to it was most troublesome, with such oh-
stacles as we had to contend with. Fascines and chevaux-
de-frise were thrown across the gap, and in rear of this
crowded the garrison, who were firing on us with deadly
coolness and precision.
Morley fell dead at my feet! An indescribable sensa-
tion—a kind of frenzy, possessed me. I shouted and
rushed up, brandishing my sabre, and holding aloft in my
left hand the little standard, which I had undertaken to
place on the walls of Scylla, or die in the attempt; it was
blown to ribands by the storm of balls. Navarro was for-
gotten ; I thought only of glory and Bianca!
" Forward, 20th! Remember Egmont! On, on!
Hurrah!"
" Hurrah! hurrah!" cried the wild stormers, as they
scrambled up the breach in a mob, encumbered by the
killed and wounded, who were falling every second under
their feet. A shower of hand-grenades, thrown by the
grenadiers of the 20th, who were posted in rear of a low
wall close by, drove the enemy back from the chevaux-de-
frise, and shattered it to pieces. These military engines,
which are now most unaccountably laid aside, were fol-
lowed by a few round shot from our battery; their dis-
charge created great confusion among the French; so
much so, that we reached the summit of the breach with-
out suffering half the slaughter I had anticipated.
A new engine was now brought into operation, the effect
of which will never be forgotten by me while life and
memory remain.
"Push on, for G-od's sake! O, my brave fellows!
trust now to the bayonet, and the bayonet only !" I
cried.
"Viva Ferdinando nostro e la Santa Fede!" shouted
Castelermo, springing to my side, but the Calabrian war-
cry was almost lost in the cheers of the 20th, and the
terrific din around us ; the ear was stunned with one con-
tinual roar of frightful sounds. But the groan, the
stifled gasp, the agonizing cry were unheard or unheeded;
we made the corpses of our dearest comrades stepping-
stones, and through the shot and shell-splinters, which
swept around us like a hail-storm, we rushed on, to close,
to grapple with, and overwhelm the enemy. At their
head we perceived the marquis, a noble-looking fellow, on
whose broad breast the stars and medals of his achieve-
258
ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
meats were shining in the light from the muskets and
bursting bombs.
At that instant I reached the summit of the breach, and
laid my hand on the chevaux-de-frise, to vault over, when
the earth heaved and yawned beneath our feet; a tremen-
dous explosion and a dreadful crash ensued; a hundred of
my party were blown to atoms in a moment, and I was
thrown over the barrier, falling headlong in the midst of
the enemy.
Unseen by us, after dusk, a caisson des bombes, or tub
filled with loaded shells, had been secretly sunk under the
stones of the breach, and being slightly covered over by
fragments of masonry, lay concealed until the moment
we trod upon it, when the French fired it by means of a
saucisson, and produced a frightful catastrophe. There
was a pause for a moment, but a moment only.
The few survivors of the
dying man to a copeston
The stone yielded and gave way; there was a cry of
" Basta!" and the poor knight vanished, but whether into
the fosse or the sea beneath the cliffs, I knew not; in
either case, I was sure he must have perished.
A yell of triumph burst from the French; it was echoed
by one of defiance from our stormers, who once more
rushed forward, led on by Colonel Oswald. His tall and
stately figure afforded a prominent mark for the fire of the
besieged; but he miraculously escaped. With all the
courage that desperation could inspire, I used my sabre
among the French, with a strength and energy they'were
unaccustomedto; butmyeffortstoclearthebarrierandrejoin
our stormers were perfectly ineffectual. At the very moment
that Oswald sprang, sword in hand, over the now shattered
blades of the chevaux-de-frise, followed by the 20th,
thirsting for vengeance, I received a blow from the butt
of a musket, and felt as if crushed beneath the weight of a
mountain ; the light of a thousand stars seemed to dance
before me ; then all was dark, horribly dark! My G-od!
I faltered, and sank to the earth; the French, supposing
me dead, trod over me as they rushed forward to the
conflict.
The fatal breach was now passed, and our soldiers
fought like lions, to retain their ground within it. The
conflict was maintained, hand to hand, with resolute
saw Castelermo clinging
A BENCONTBE ! 259
valour; swords and ponderous musket-butts were whirling
about like sticks at Donnybrook fair.
My head swam with the effects of the blow; yet I con-
trived to crawl from among the legs of the French—whose
red breeches and leather leggings I shall not soon forget—
and drew near Oswald. Then starting up, half-blinded
with blood, smoke, and confusion, I rushed upon the
French commandant. I had not exchanged half a dozen
passes with him, ere a heavy dizziness came over me; I
staggered backwards, and, sinking, clung to a cannon for
support. He had raised his sabre aloft to cleave my head
in two; but, like a gallant soldier as he was, he spared
me, and engaged Oswald, in whom he found no common
adversary ; for the colonel was stout of heart and strong
of hand as any kail-supper that ever came out of the famous
" kingdom" of Fife.
Short but desperate was the combat that ensued; a
stroke across the temple laid the famous marchese, whose
name was so terrible to the Neapolitans, prostrate before
his conqueror; and he was trodden to the earth among the
gory corpses which cumbered the breach, while the whole
58th, with their black standards in front, swept over us.
CHAPTEE XXXIII.
A BENCONTBE!
As all our impetuous troops had now passed through the
breach, the French were driven beyond it; but the con-
flict raged with undiminished fury in other parts of the fort-
ress. The place where I had fallen, benumbed and bruised,
was comparatively quiet and still, and whilst I lay there, I
heard a voice close by me exclaim, in pure English, " O, my
God! and here end all my hopes, my j oys, and sorrows ! My
mother—my home—I shall never see them more! Alas I
the one would weep for, the other scorn me ! Aloise—
dearest Aloise! we meet no more ! "Well, I have ever
been faithful to you, and to our emperor. You have ever
been loving, and my sovereign grateful."
Turning with surprise, I found it was the French com-
mandant who was thus soliloquizing, whilst he bled pro-
fusely from a wound, which disfigured him very much.
260
ADVENTUBES OF AW AIDE-EE-CAMP.
" Here is a stout Briton wlio has been fighting under
the tricolor, or some wild spirit that has fled from Ireland
after the last rising," I thought, whilst approaching him
on my hands and knees. I tied up his head with my
handkerchief, to stanch the blood—though I myself needed
the same attention—and on dividing the contents of my
pocket-flask between us, the commandant recovered won-
derfully.
" Sir, you have betrayed yourself to be British!" said I,
in alow, stern voice. " With me your secret is safe ; I
respect you as a brave man, and should have done so still
more had you been a Frenchman; but beware how you
become known to Sir John Stuart; he is a stern soldier of
the old school, who will assuredly order a drum-head
court-martial, and have you shot as a traitor!"
The eyes of the marquis flashed fire.
" I am now a soldier of fortune," he replied, "free to
serve where and whom I please. Stuart, if he knew all—
if he remembered. But there is a secret spirit whispering
at this moment within me, that I have met you before;
you are the officer who led the forlorn-hope ?" His voice
faltered.
"Yes."
"And whom I encountered in the breach, before that
tall officer cut me down ?"
" The same."
" O, fate ! if it should be so," he exclaimed, passing his
hand across his blood-stained brow; and then grasping me
with energy, "your name, sir?"
" Dundas," said I; " Claude Dundas."
" Of the 62nd foot ?" His eyes were now starting in
his head, so intensely he gazed on me.
" Yes, sir," I replied sharply, " I am not ashamed to
acknowledge myself."
" Taunt me not—taunt me not!" he exclaimed, wildly ;
" God! I am your brother—I am Frank, who was cus-
missed from the Corsicans so unjustly. This hour—this
agony—my wound—O say, in ten years, have you quite
forgotten my features ?"
For a moment I regarded, with wonder, his bronzed and
bearded visage, now covered with blood; then, appalled by
his words, I endeavoured to trace in his features those of
the fair-haired and light-hearted boy who used to carry
me on his back to school, and was my champion and pro-
A RENCONTRE!
261
tector in many a fisticuff battle and bicker, who was so
often flogged by tlie grim old janitor for taking my faults
arid blunders on himself, and for whom I wept like a girl
through many a long weary night, when, as a stripling
ensign, he joined the army under the good duke of York,
and first fired my boyish ardour by being gazetted for his
valour at Valenciennes.
For a time, memory carried me back to the pleasant
days of our childhood, and my heart, which a moment
before had been strung for stirring deeds of carnage and
death, relaxed and melted within me; in that terrible hour,
in the gory breach of Scylla, surrounded by the dying
and dead, with the uproar of the assault yet sounding
above and around me, I threw away my sabre, and weep-
ing, as I had done in my boyish days, embraced that
brother over whom all believed the grave had closed, and
whom I had never expected to meet again on earth.
" Happy as I am to meet you, Frank, I would rather
that we had never met, than that I should meet you thus.
The French uniform "
"Is that of as brave an army as the sun shines on!" he
replied, enthusiastically. " Insulted pride, necessity, and
revenge, forced me into its ranks, where I have served
faithfully and honourably, as the high civil and military
rank I have attained, together with these badges, received
some of them from Napoleon's hand on the Champ de
Mars, and some on the battle-fields of Holland and Italy,
can amply testify. Our mother," he added, in a broken
voice, " tell me, our mother "
"Lives still, but old and sorrowing."
" And Franz—my evil genius ?"
" Head—shot at St. Eufemio."
" There ends our enmity," he replied, through his set
teeth. " I have gained a rank infinitely above that from
which he degraded me. Heaven knows how my heart
bled when first I found myself opposed to the ranks of
your army at Maida; the well-known colours and red-
coats—ay, even my own old regiment, the gallant Ran-
gers, whose officers and men, all save one, had been my
comrades through many a perilous day. O, it was an hour
of acute and indescribable agony when I saw them march-
ing by the Amato in close column, with their band in
front, playing the same merry quickstep to which I had
•often marched in happier days. I have found the French
262 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
as honourable as they are brave; and, could I have for-
gotten home, should have been supremely happy in their
service. My marriage with Aloise Milette, daughter of
the general of division—you must have heard of him—
would have given me additional ties to France. Aloise
—ah! if you knew her, Claudehe paused, as if to
collect his scattered thoughts, and then, although his
senses were wandering, continued :—
" This last stronghold of the emperor in the Calabrias, I
have defended to the last—yes, with all my power and
courage; and in this moment of extremity I must not
desert my brave fellows, while a chance remains of driving
Oswald's brigade through the breach or into the sea. Fare-
well! God bless you, Claude! Speak kindly of me to those
at home—to my poor mother—she will never see me more."
He strained me for a moment to his breast, and snatch-
ing up his notched sabre, staggered towards that part of the
works where an unequal contest was maintained by a sec-
tion of Frenchmen, whom our soldiers were endeavouring
in vain to dislodge from a bomb-proof vault, by firing in
through the same loopholes from which the enemy dealt
death so securely.
" Vive l'Empereur!" he exclaimed, rushing towards
them with his brandished sabre.
" Frank !" I cried; " Frank, by the memory of all that
has passed!—for the love of God—hear me!" But he
heard me not. He had scarcely advanced a dozen paces,
when a shot—whether aimed or fired at random, I know
not—passed through his head, and flattened on a gun-
breech beside me. He fell dead across a heap of his own
men, and never moved again. A cry of horror rose to my
lips, but expired upon them unuttered. Stupified with the
events of the night, my brain whirled, and I sank down
on the slippery and bloody pavement of the inner bastion;
my mind was a fearful chaos, and I experienced a sensa-
tion like that of a horrible nightmare.
Weak as a child, and quite unmanned, bitter tears rolled
over my cheeks. A dead man lay across me; I was half-
stifled, but could not move. I thought of home; and the
splashing of the waves far below me, sounded like the
murmur of my native Esk: again I heard, in imagination,
the ripple of its waters tinkling in Boslin's lonely glen ; the
woods of Dalkeith rustled over me. Frank's last words
yet rang in my ears, but it seemed the familiar voice of a
REGGIO.—AN IMPBOVISATOEE. 268
boy; then came that of my mother, low and sad—she was
weeping for her son. Again, I was a child, and her kiss
was on my cheek. Salt and hot were the tears I shed,
and bitter the agony I endnred, ere blessed unconscious-
ness possessed me, and sinking back against the gun-slide,
I swooned among the bodies of the dead.
# * # * * # " #
Long ere this, the place had been taken. Infuriated by
the protracted assault, our men burst oyer the fortress
like a torrent. De Watteville's soldiers were like madmen.
Woe to the officer who dared to check their plundering,
or curb their fury !—and woe to the unhappy women who
fell into their power! Innumerable episodes of horror
followed the conclusion of the storm. The French, who
had been disarmed, were marched instantly to the beach,
and embarked'on board Sir Sidney's squadron; which had
come close in shore on hearing the noise of the attack.
No. time was to be lost in making Soy 11a again defen-
sible; therefore, before daybreak, the dead were all in-
terred in a common grave, in a hollow near Monte Jaci.
For one amongst the hundreds thus buried, I desired a
separate and more secluded sepulchre; but, stripped of
his epaulettes and orders, his body, without being recog-
nized, had been hurried away, and entombed with the
common herd in that dreadful grave, over which two hun-
dred soldiers hurled the earth, for concealment of the
ghastly heaps within it. I remember the place: an
orange-tree, of gigantic size, shadowed it; and a ruined
Grecian column may yet point it out to the tourist; it was
lying near, and our soldiers placed it over the grave.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
KEGGIO,—AN IMPBOVISATOEE.
Whilst I was still lying where I had sunk down ex-
hausted—stunned by my wound, appalled by the recent
discovery, weak with pain and loss of blood, and utterly
prostrated in spirit—the fortress became still, or com-
paratively so, and the objects all around were veiled in
darkness : the blue lights had burned out, and the lurid
gleam of the cannon and musketry no longer flashed
through the gloom. Cries and piteous exclamations of
264 ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
agony resounded from every quarter ; and the living were
dragged from beneath heaps of dead, to be sent to the
hospital—an old, half-ruined convent, which was appro-
priated to receive the wounded; but which was soon
found to be inadequate to contain them.
Three soldiers employed in searching for those who
needed relief approached me ; one of them bore a lantern,
and its light glared on the once gay, but now tattered,
uniform of Castelermo, who accompanied them, and whose
fate I had altogether forgotten,
" Basta ! and here he is !" he exclaimed; " only stunned,
I hope.—How now, Signor Capitano ?—nothing more than
a few inches of the skin ripped up ?"
" A cloven head, only," I replied, in a faint voice.
" Only !" he reiterated.
" An old wound broken out again. I was struck by a
musket-butt on the very place where a ball grazed my
head at Cefaiu. But I am glad to see you alive and scathe-
less, after that sad tumble you had, when blown out of the
breach."
" I have indeed had an escape which, to my dying day,
will never be forgotten. I fell only into the fosse; but a
yard more, on one side, would have launched me into the
deep ; and, by this time, I should have been—Madonna
knows where, in the depths of' devouring Scylla.' Never
shall I forget the storming of this castle, though I should
live as long as father Adam."
The sold iers raised me up, and, on receiving the as-
sistance of Castelermo's arm, I was able to walk, and was
led into the interior of the castle ; where, after guards
had been posted, one party of the conquerors was making
merry on the wine, brandy, and viands found in the
Trench stores. Another party was already bearing away
the dead, for interment; they were so numerous, that the
general deemed it prudent, in so hot a climate, to have
the poor fellows all under the turf by sunrise. The taking
of the place had been attended with considerable slaughter;
but I have forgotten the exact casualties.
Tor several days after the assault, our troops were oc-
cupied in repairing the old defences, building new ones,
remounting cannon, burying the stray corpses, which were
sometimes found in retired nooks and corners, and in
attending to the wounded ; whilst I remained inactive on
the list of the convalescents. To me, these were days of
EEGGI0.—AN IMFROVISATOEE.
265
indescribable misery and ennui; I endured agony, both
of mind and body ; for a wound on the head, dangerous
at all times, is doubly so in a warm climate. I became
feverish and restless, and was haunted by gloomy visions
and fancies.
The assault—its dangers, uproar, and excitement—that
unexpected and terrible rencontre—the voice—the face—
the words—the figure, which seemed to come to me from
the grave, to appear only, and be lost for ever—all flitted
continually before me, like some hideous dream. I
brooded over the secret, which I dared not reveal even to
my most intimate friends in the garrison; and it op-
pressed and weighed upon me like some vast incubus. I
was restless, unhappy, and careless of all that was passing
around me ; or, if I spent a thought on the external
world, it was always accompanied by a wish to be again
engaged on some piece of active service.
Oswald being the officer who fairly led the stormers
through the breach, I did not receive promotion; but, in
lieu, a riband with a silver clasp, having the word Seylla
inscribed on it, was presented to me. This I considered
no ordinary compliment; rewards for merit being—
strange to say—almost unknown in the British service;
if we except those rings worn on the arms of the privates,
and called " good-conduct stripes," in contradistinction to
the bad, which are bestowed elsewhere.
My name was duly emblazoned in the general orders,
and transmitted to the Horse Guards, whence the re-
iterated compliments of the commander-in-chief were
published through all the journals of the day; and while,
in my obscure billet at Scylla, I knew nothing about it,
I was becoming quite a man of note at home.
As soon as the fall of the fortress became known, the
inhabitants of the town, whom the din of war had driven
to Beggio and Messina, came flocking back to their ruined
and rifled habitations; a ' ;tle place
which the presence of Os o , e vicinity
of our fleet, not a little increased.
I had a tolerably comfortable billet with an ancient
lady, who did all in her power to make me happy; for
she perceived that something weighed heavily on my
spirits, and that I was gloomy and melancholy. She was
a garrulous old gossip, whose head was then as full of
soon resumed its wonted
activity,
266 ADVENTTTBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
saints and miracles as it had been of love and lovers thirty
years before, and a famous maker of polenta and choke-
priest, with which she often nearly choked me; but old
Signoressa Pisa was so kind and motherly in her manner,
that I have ever since remembered her with gratitude.
The little town and its castle were crowded to excess;
the latter with Oswald's brigade, and the former with its
returned inhabitants, our own wounded, and those of the
enemy. There was not a closet, garret, or cellar unoccu-
pied; and Castelermo shared with me the hospitality of
Signora Pia. Our quarters could not be called billets, as
each person housed himself where he could; the seniors
generally occupying the best, by right of rank.
Prom the windows of my apartment, we had a noble view
of the Straits, studded with vessels, and gleaming in blue
and saffron by day, and in silver and green by night; the
white-terraced houses and spires of Messina, the beautiful
mountains, and all the Sicilian shore. In the evening, I
often enjoyed the cool prospect and a fragrant cigar, while
sipping the scanty half-pint of ration wme, to which the
medical officer restricted me, and listening to the
dashing of the waves on the cliffs below. The little
library of the signora.was placed at my disposal; but the
" Gierusalemme," the " Hundred Ancient Tales," the
poems of Alfieri, and the sayings and doings of many
holy personages, were all turned over listlessly; until, at
last, I found one volume which interested me deeply. It
was one of which I had heard Bianca speak most rap-
turously, and which all Italians mention with admiration
—the Poems of Ossian, the Bard of Selma, which are so
ably translated by the celebrated poet Cesarotti, whose
pen has added an essay on their authenticity and beauty,
which the Italians can appreciate, even through the
medium of a second translation. Prom Napoleon—who
is said never to have been without a copy of this work,
especially when writing bulletins and general orders—the
Abate Cesarotti received a handsome pension. The book
afforded me occupation during the few weeks I remained
at Scylla. I say weeks, because Ossian is not a work to be
skimmed, but rather skidied; every line is so replete with
power and beauty. But my quiet mode of life was not
fated to last long, as I was sent on duty the moment my
name was off the staff-surgeon's list.
As soon as I could ride, I ordered out Cartouche, and,
REGGrlO.—AN IMPEOVISATORE.
267
' 1 1 ^ ' 1 mo, rode over to Reggio, in faint
Morgana — the sea fairy, as our padrona called her—
who, according to the Calabrese tradition, is a mermaid
dwelling in the Straits of Messina, above the waves of
which she displays her palaces of shell and coral, to lure
young men to destruction; hut there are fairies in all the
cities of Italy, whose lures are more dangerous than those
of the poor mermaid in the fable.
Castelermo informed me that he had been hearing mass
at a chapel of San Bartolommeo, among the hills, where
he had solemnly returned thanks to the great patron of
his order, for his narrow escape at Scylla.
" And San Bartolommeo, who was he ?" I asked.
" A most blessed saint, signor. To-day is the anniver-
sary of his martyrdom : he was flayed alive, by order of
Astiages, the Armenian. But my escape—maladetto!
'twas a narrow one: when my hold relaxed, and I fell
from the broken battlement, I thought myself gone for
ever. Yes, signor, but for St. John of Malta, and the
beatified Madonna, I must have been dashed to pieces on
those stone flags, which received me so softly: in all my
campaigns under the cardinal, in all my fighting under
the winged horse at Rome, and the Maltese flag, I never
encountered an adventure equal to it!"
"IJnder the Maltese flag? Against the Turks, I
presume ? "
" Basta! ay, and corsairs of Barbary, pirates of Greece,
and, lastly, Frenchmen. You are aware, that three months
after the soldiers of Napoleon captured that solitary rock,
where the banner of the true faith had waved so long, the
hereditary vassals of the order, irritated by the tyranny
of his general, Vaubois, rose in arms : with a few knights
of the old Italian langue, I hastened to put myself at
their head, and assist in the expulsion of those irreligious
invaders. Ha! then we had something like war. The
gates of Yaletta, and the other cities of the isle, were shut,
and their blockaded garrison reduced to the utmost famine
and distress. Then ensued that long and bloody siege,
which lasted for two years, during which time more than
twenty thousand soldiers perished by the sword or starva-
tion. As the great master-spirit of those military opera-
tions, I was in my glory, and was full of fervour, rapture,
and ecstasy, at the prospect of once more establishing my
famous phenomenon, the Fata
268 ADVENTUBES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
order. No pilgrim, on first beholding the holy city from
afar, ever experienced the glow of indescribable feeling
which possessed me, when the fleet of Portugal, sent by
Lord Nelson to our assistance, burst joyously on my
gaze,—as the gallant ships, with their frowning tiers of
artillery, their standards streaming, and white canvas
swelling in the breeze, steered round the promontory, and
opened their broadsides against the castle of St. Elmo.
O, hour of joy ! I kissed my sword, and raised my hands
to the blue sky above me, in thankfulness. Lastly, came
the fleets of Britain and Sicily, after which the fortresses
surrendered, and the soldiers of Yaubois, marching to the
sea-shore, threw down their arms. All the treasured
hopes, the glowing thoughts of years, were about to be
accomplished : I stepped forward, to receive the sword of
the general; judge of my wrath, when Lord Nelson anti-
cipated me ; bowing low, Yaubois presented his sword by
the hilt, and the admiral immediately handed it to a short,
squat fellow, a sailor, who stood behind, and who, with
the most provoking indifference and sang froid, put it
under his arm, with those of other officers, as he received
them in succession."
Castelermo heaved a deep sigh, paused, and then conti-
nued :—" I had in my hands the same consecrated stand-
ard which Ximenes, our most illustrious grand-master,
had, in better days, unfurled against the infidels of Al-
geria ; I was about to hoist it on the* ramparts of Yaletta,
and at the point of the sword claim the isle in the name
of the knights of St. John of Jerusalem, when lo! the
British flag was hoisted on the turrets of St. Elmo : a cold
shivering seized my frame, while my heart glowed with
honest indignation at the grasping nature of England.
Slowly the flag ascended, unrolling its gaudy crosses to
the breeze, when the cheers of the troops, mingling with
those of our fickle and perfidious vassals, were echoed
back by the shipping of the allies in our harbour, and the
Sicilians thundered a salute from the bastions of Picasoli.
I thought of old Villiers de l'lsle Adam, of Diomedes, of
John de Yalette, and the glories that had passed away for
ever. Sick at heart, and disgusted with the world, I
tossed into the sea beneath me the banner of Ximenes,
and, sheathing my sword, quitted for ever the isle of
Malta, where for two long years I had fought, toiled, and
bled, animated by the proud and chivalric hope, that, by
EEGGIO.—AN IMPEOYISATOEE.
269
restoring to its pristine grandeur tlie order of St. John, I
should hve in story, like those brave warriors who shine
in the glowing pages of Vertot. But, alas ! we are falling
now, as the Templars fell of old."
I never interrupted him: the departed glories of his
order formed a sad but favourite theme, and he continued
to dwell upon it until we arrived at Beggio. The white
houses of the town, the undulating hills, palm-groves, and
orangeries, formed a very agreeable landscape, sloping
down to the glassy bosom of the dark-blue ocean.
" And this is Bhegium, so celebrated in the history of
the past."
" Where guilty Circe trod the waves with feet unwetted,
and where the wild warriors of Barbarossa gave all to fire
and sword," said the cavaliere, as we rode over ground
strewed with ruins, now rapidly becoming hidden under
luxuriant masses of ivy and vine. " These shattered
walls bear traces of the great earthquake of 1783,
which will never be forgotten until some still greater
calamity overwhelms all Calabria with destruction and
horror."
" The Grecian columns yonder "
"Are the relics of an earlier age—fragments of the
great temple of Minerva. Beggio was once famous for its
country villas ; of those you behold only the ruins, which
are used as a common quarry by the people ; and here
you will look in vain for the city, once so famed for its
extent and opulence; but the sacking and burning of 1544,
the convulsion of 1783, and succeeding wars and woes,
have reduced it to what you now see."
Though some of its streets were new and handsome,
they were quiet as those of a sequestered hamlet at home :
impoverished and oppressed by the invaders, their inha-
bitants were few, and those poor and dejected in appear-
ance. The scenery, however, was beautiful; the winding
shores, the dark waters of the Straits, the high mountains
of the purest green, and the variously-tinted groves of
aromatic trees, all combined to render the place charming.
The smooth bosom of the glassy sea vividly reflected the
landscape ; but we looked in vain for that wondrous phe-
nomenon, the Fairy Morgana, who was so condescending,
a few years before, as to display her coral palaces thrice
to the Dominican, Fra Antonio Minaci. Less favoured by
the fair mermaid, we beheld neither inverted fleets nor
T
270 ADVENTUBES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
submarine 'cities, and, after a canter along the Marina,
adjourned to the Cafe Britannica to dine.
In the evening, as we sat sipping our wine at the open
windows, enjoying the cool west wind from the Siraits,
and observing the passers-by,—for the streets became a
little more animated, as the men turned out to smoke
their cigars and talk politics, the women to see them and
promenade,—a crowd beneath the balcony attracted our
attention.
" An improvisatore," said Castelermo, as the notes of a
guitar were heard. " Shall I give him a theme ?"
" Certainly: but what shall it be ? The Fall of
Rhodes P"
" You shall hear: the'Capture of Scylla."
He drew a card from his case, wrote something on the
back of it with a pencil, and threw it over the balcony.
In the midst of the crowd stood a young man, in the
common but graceful garb of the province, with a broad,
scarlet riband encircling his hat, the front of which was
adorned by a loyalist cockade of the same hue. His jacket
of 'green plush was gaily embroidered, a broad white
shirt-collar was folded over it, yellow cotton breeches, a
green silk sash and leather gaiters finished his attire; but
there was something very jaunty, intelligent, gay, and
impudent, in his rosy face and tout ensemble. His man-
dolin announced him to be one of the improvisatori,—
wandering minstrels, or itinerant storytellers.
I know not whether those men are worthy of the name
of inspired poets; but, so wonderful is their talent for
versification, that some of the better class of them have
been known to produce, extempore, a five-act tragedy,
and an epic, divided into cantos, and having a regular
plot, characters, and dialogues,—all maintained in octave-
syllabic rhyme. I had often encountered them in Sicily,
where, by the wayside and among the mountains, their
songs had cheered the tedium of many a long march, and
had bestowed many a ducat upon them,—regarding the
wanderers as representatives of the ancient troubadours
or minnesingers, once so common over the whole of
Europe; but the modern minstrel we encountered at
Reggio provoked me extremely.
" Benissimo!" cried he, while coins of every description
showered from all quarters into the high crown of his in-
verted hat. "The illustrious cavalier has given me a
EEGGI0.—AN IMPEOVISATOEE. 271
•gallant theme; Madonna aid me to do it justice! Sig-
nori, you will hear a story of the brave English captain,
who took the castle of Scylla for King Eerdinand, and so
gained the love of a fair Italian signora."
" Bravissimo!" cried the men, and the women clapped
their hands, exultingly.
Castelermo glanced at me with a droll smile, and we
both burst into a fit of laughter.
" Impossible! the fellow cannot mean me!" said I.
" You shall hear. Ah! the prelude—hear him—excel-
lent! He excels Andrea Marone in verse; and our fair
Corilla, the gifted peasant-girl of Pistoia, who, amid the
roar of a hundred cannon, was crowned queen of the
gentle art at Home, could not finger the mandolin more
lightly, or with better taste. Basta! he should make his
fortune!"
Imagine my surprise, on hearing the' improvisatore
give forth, extempore, to his eager, silent, and gaping
audience, a song or poem of some thirty or forty long
verses, in very tolerable ottiva rima, descriptive of the
siege and storm of Scylla, in which, under the name of
Claudio Dundazo, I was continually mentioned in a strain
of most extravagant compliment, as the valoroso capitano,
and most gallant cavaliere in the world. What annoyed
me most was, that the name of Bianca d'Alfieri had not
escaped the minstrel, who made her the heroine of his
impudent epic.
" Oh ! Castelermo—by the Lord! this is too ridiculous.
I care not about myself; but Bianca's name, to be used
thus, for amusing the rabble of Beggio!" said I, starting
up. " How the proud girl's cheek would flush, if fshe knew
of this! You gave him the theme."
" The theme, merely.—Hush!" added the knight, de-
f anning me, as the improvisatore concluded, describing our
joyous marriage, in a splendid cathedral, with incense
burning, bells ringing, and priests praying. After a grand
invocation of all the saints,—to whom he described us as
vowing several pounds of excellent wax-candle, whilst a
magnificent petticoat was promised to Our Lady of Burello,
—the bard concluded: once more he inverted his hat, into
which we each threw our mite.
" His profession must be the best in Italy," said I, on
beholding the shower of coins which rained into the
t 2
272
ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
amply-brimmed receiver,—the clanking dollar, the ringing
carlino, and the tinkling bajoccli.
" He has acquitted himself well: Corilla, herself, could
not have done better ; and, believe me, I pay the wanderer
no ordinary compliment in saying so."
" But he must be cautioned against using the name of
the Signora d'Alfieri in future."
"Already he has gone, signor," replied the knight, "and
your threats and requests he would neither hear nor obey.
Theimprovisatoriwillfind the celebration of the fall of Scylla
the most popular theme in the Calabrias, where all rejoice
that the horse of Naples once more spreads its wings over
the last stronghold of Napoleon in the province. Did you
not observe how his enthusiasm enabled him to acquit
himself, and how he seemed to rejoice in his wondrous
art ? While describing the night attack on Scylla, his
breast seemed to pant with ardour, and his eyes sparkled
with animation ; his swarthy cheek glowed crimson, while
his rapid and liquid words enchained his listening audience..
He is a handsome fellow: at that moment, he seemed
beautiful, and all the women were in raptures with him.
Yet how still they remained, as if a spell was upon them,
until he concluded, and then burst forth the universal
shout of' Excellentissimo—oh! most excellent!' "
On our return to Scylla, as I dismounted, throwing the
reins to my groom, he informed me that an Italian general
officer was waiting for me at the house of Signora Pia, on
some business of importance. Startled by this communi-
cation, I hurried to my billet, and found the supposed
general to be old Zaccheo Andronicus, who, in his gorgeous
chasseur's livery, might easily be mistaken for some officer
by Mr. Bob Brown, whose perceptions of things, beyond
the heel-post of the stable, were none of the clearest.
I joyously welcomed " the old grey Grecian," who had
recovered from his wound, and was now bearer of a letter
from Bianca, in answer to one despatched the night before
Scylla was stormed. I consigned him, forthwith, to the
care of my padrona, and hurried away to enjoy, in soli-
tude, the delight of perusing Bianca's first—and, as it
proved, her last—letter.
"Written in her pretty little running hand, it began with
the usual address of " caro signor ; " but my heart leaped,
on finding the fair girl using the frank and more endearing
navarro.—revenge !
273
phrase of " anima mia." The viscontessa begged to be
remembered to me : she had lost an enormous sum at faro
last night, with the last of her suite of brilliants. Luigi
was slowly recovering from the effects of his wound, but
Ms peace of mind was gone for ever. To hasten his reco-
very, his mother had thrice vowed a solemn pilgrimage to
the cave of St. Rosalia, in Sicily, but had as often aban-
doned the attempt, and vowed candles to SanUgo, instead;
since wMch he had begun to recover more rapidly, and all
at the villa had no doubt that the saint had interceded in
his behalf. She applauded my conduct at Scylla; and, to
me, her praise was more valuable, and more highly prized,
than that of the generals. She had perused all the de-
spatches in the G-azetta Britannica, and her heart had
leaped alternately with pride and joy—with fear and horror
—at the narration. " Oh! Claude," she continued, " you
know not how proud I am of you—how I rejoice at your
escape! But Francesca, my sister—my unhappy sister!—
we can discover no trace of her—her fate is enveloped in
mystery. We have every horror to fear; for Petronio,
the bishop of Cosenza, though deemed a saint by the
peasantry, is a bold and bad-hearted man, and, Francesca
in his power!—oh! Madonna! Would that you could
visit us ; her loss and Luigi's illness fill us with perplexity
and dismay."
Next day, I despatched an answer by the chasseur, pro-
raising to solicit the general for a few days' leave of ab-
sence, to visit the villa. But this idea was never realized
in the manner I expected, as I was despatched, on dlrgent
duty, to the Adriatic shore, a day or two afterwards.
CHAPTER XXXV.
navarro. revenge !
Although I had no doubt that this honourable per-
sonage, for the purpose of disgracing me or endangering
my life, had, in that true national spirit of revenge of
which every day brought forth some new example, forged
the letter which G-ascoigne received, still I had not suffi-
cient proof of the fact, either to " call him out," or place
him under arrest. We met daily in the garrison, and
274 ADVENTTTEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
glances of undisguised hostility from him were duly an-
swered by those of contempt from me : but such a state
of things, between men wearing swords, could not endure
lon£-
A whisper of suspicion—most injurious to the honour
of Navarro, as a man of courage and loyalty—was circu-
lated through the brigade. Shunned, scorned, and placed
in Coventry, by the officers, slighted, and regarded with
curious eyes, by the soldiers, his baseness recoiled upon
himself,—he led a life of solitary wretchedness and misery.
But he was a traitor and Buonapartist at heart, and in
close correspondence with Regnier, to whom he soon de-
serted, yet not before committing one of those atrocities
which disgraced Italy then, as often as they do a certain
western island now.
Having so many adventures to describe, and so much
to relate, I must be brief. My quarrel with Navarro soon
came to a crisis : being sent to him by the general, with a
message relative to the re-fortifying of Scylla, I was so
provoked by his dogged insolence, that I laid my riding-
switch pretty severely across his back; a challenge ensued,
and we were to fight next morning, in the most remote
part of the fortress.
Cool and determined, though exasperated, I went to bed
without the least anxiety : I had no doubt of coming off
victorious; and, hardened as I was by the bloodshed of
service, would have cared no more for shooting Navarro,
than killing a partridge. Now, it appears to me singular
with what deliberation Castelermo and I made our prepa-
rations over-night,—rolling six pistol cartridges, fixing the
flints, oiling the springs, and putting all in order to start
by daybreak. After supping as usual, we retired to bed,
each giving the other solemn injunctions not to sleep too
long.
I have already stated, that, in consequence of the
crowded state of the billets, we both occupied the same
room.
About daybreak, I started, and awoke; the business on
hand rushed upon my memory. I sat up in bed, and re-
fleeted for a moment on the events another hour might
bring forth : my train of thought was arrested by observ-
ing a current of air agitating the muslin curtains of my
couch, and causing them to float about like banners. I
leaped out, and, to my surprise perceived the casement
NAVABBO.—EEVENGE !
275
unbolted and open,—admitting, at once, the cold sea-
breeze and dull grey morning light.
" Gastelermo—signor, rouse! It wants but twenty
minutes to the time, by my watch."
" And ten by mine," said Gascoigne, putting in his
head: he was closely muffled up in his cloak. " What!
only turning out; eh, Dundas ? "
" It is all very well for you to be in a hurry," said I,
pettishly. " You Irishmen take these affairs quite as
matters of course. I'll be ready in a minute; a chill
morning for a shooting-party,'' I added with a poor
attempt at a laugh, " Where is Macnesia ?"
" Below, with his instruments ; but your friend, the
"alio, Castelermo!"
often, but received no answer; and, supposing that he
must have risen, I drew back the curtain of his sleeping-
place, to assure myself, when a scarcely articulate excla-
mation of horror escaped my lips. Imagine my grief and
astonishment, to behold our poor friend lying (Jrenched in
his blood, pale and lifeless!
I placed my hand on his heart; it was cold and still.
Gascoigne bent over the window, and shouted—
" Macnaisha—Macnaisha—you devil you, come here! "
The doctor arrived in a moment, but the cavalier was
beyond his skill; there was not the slightest warmth 01*
1 lation. The gallant, the noble, and chivalric Castelermo
perished by the hand of a cowardly assassin. Buried
to the very cross-guard, in his heart, a little ebony-hilted
poniard was struck, with such force, that some strength
had to be exerted to draw it forth; and, on my doing so, a
strip of paper, attached to the pommel, attracted our at-
tention ; it contained these words:—
" Let those who would avenge this insolent Briton,
seek me among the ranks of the French at Cassano; a;
word I might have forgiven—a blow, never.—Pietro
Navarro."
Although boiling with indignation, I shuddered at tile
fate I had so narrowly escaped. For me it was that the
fatal stroke had been intended; and I then remembered
Castelermo's warning, to beware of the cowardly Navarro.
Clambering up by a garden-wall, the miscreant had
reached our casement, which he had contrived to open
noiselessly; but on entering the room he had mistaken the
Dressing in haste, I called
276 ADVENTTJBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
unfortunate cavalier's bed for mine, and my friend bad
thus perished in my stead.
" The blow must have been struck about midnight,"
said Macnesia.
Only an hour after we retired to rest: perhaps Navarro
had been outside the window during the greater part of
the night, watching our preparations for the intended
meeting next morning. But, with three hundred of our
soldiers, we had all a narrower escape from this Italian's
hatred and duplicity, of which the reader shall hear more
anon.
The Signoressa Pia was overwhelmed with consternation
and dismay on learning that the knight of Malta had
perished under her roof. Followed by a mob of fisher-
men, the podesta, with his clerk, arrived and committed to
writing a statement of the facts; while I preserved the
poniard and the assassin's signature for production and
evidence, should a day of retribution ever arrive.
Enraged at this act of sacrilege, the populace searched
every nook and corner in the town ; two or three old
knights of Castelermo's order, who resided in the neigh-
bourhood, armed and mounted their followers and ser-
vants, who, in conjunction with those of the podesta, and a
detachment of our light troops, scoured the whole country
round ; yet without success. Navarro was nowhere to
be found ; but we soon after learned that he had sought
refuge behind the lines of his friends, the French; who
still remained intrenched at Cassano, awaiting the slow
advance of Massena.
In the solitary mountain-chapel of San Bartolommeo,
poor Castelermo was interred with military honours ; the
grenadiers of Sir Louis de Watteville, drawn up outside
the edifice, fired three volleys over it, while the coffin was
lowered down in front of the altar; where he now lies
with his mantle, sword, and spurs, like a knight " of old
Lisle Adam's days."
He was one of the last cavaliers of the original order,
which for two hundred and sixty-eight years had pos-
sessed the isle of Malta. Since 1800, when France ceded
the rock to Britain, they have been gradually declining in
power, and disappearing; and, although at the pettv
courts of Italy a few aged men are sometimes seen with
the eight-pointed cross of the order 011 their bosoms, the
Knights of Rhodes and St. John of Jerusalem have, in
NAVARRO.—REVENGE !
277
effect, passed away; like Castelermo himself, their glory
is now with the things that were.
Unfortunately, I was not present to witness the celebra-
tion of my friend's obsequies. On the close of this day,
which had commenced so inauspiciously, I had returned
with the light infantry, and wearied by a long search
among the woods and hills, was sitting dejectedly in my
billet alone, when Pierce, the general's orderly, arrived
with a message, that I was wanted by his master. I took
up my sabre, and followed him to the antique mansion
where I had first seen Sir John Stuart, on my arrival at
Scylla.
The general was engaged in writing; the table was
covered with despatches, returns, reports, and morning-
states ; a map of Italy and a pair of compasses lay close
by. The rosy light of the setting sun streamed through
the barred and latticed window on his stern Scottish
features, his silver hairs, and faded uniform; , and the
tarnished aigulette and oak-leaves, a cross of the Bath, a
medal for Maida, and clasps for other services, all
blackened by powder-smoke and the effects of the weather,
gave him a very service-born and soldier-like aspect.
" Pierce, hand Captain Dundas a chair, and wait
outside."
" Help yourself, Claude," said he, pushing two decanters
of Lacrima and Zante towards me, after asking a few hurried
questions concerning our fruitless chase after the runaway
engineer. " Pill your glass ; the Zante is tolerable ; 2nd
just excuse me for five minutes, will you?" He con-
tinued writing, and then folded a long and very official-
like document. " A journey is before you," said he;
and as you will have to start to-morrow morning by
daybreak, fight marching order is best."
" Por where, Sir John?"
" Crotona; I would not have sent you back there, but
Lascelles of yours has not returned from Cassano, and
Lieutenant-Colonel Moore is not available. Will you
believe it ? I have received orders from the ministry to
abandon the Calabrias forthwith, or do that which is the
same; to order back the expedition to Sicily, leaving gar-
risons in the strong places we have taken. These troops
will, of course, become the prisoners of Massena ; who (I
am informed by a despatch from General Sherbrooke) has
arrived at Cassano, and is there concentrating a force,
278 adventttkes of an aide-de-camp.
which will soon burst over both provinces like a torrent;
so that Maida was won, the citadel of Crotona taken, and
the castles of St. Amanthea, Monteleone, and Scylla, all
gallantly stormed, for nothing. We might as well have
remained in peace in our barracks at Palermo. But,
however foolish and contrary to my own conviction, those
orders must be obeyed. One of the Sicilian government
f allies will take you hence to-morrow, and put you on
oard the Amphion, in the Adriatic. Give my compli-
ments to Captain Hoste, with this order, to take on board
Colonel Macleod's command from Crotona, and convey it
straight to Messina. To Macleod you will convey these
instructions; to deliver over the citadel, with its cannon
and stores, to five hundred of the free Caiabri, who will
in future be its garrison, and be commanded by major
the cavaliere del Castagno, or any other officer whom
that insubordinate fellow the Yisconte Santugo may
appoint. A detachment of De Watteville's shall hold
Monteleone ; and Captain Piozzi, with a few of the Italian
guards, the castle of St. Amanthea. I am resolved that
as few British troops as possible shall be sacrificed by the
folly of our friends in authority. Your regiment is the
best in Sicily, and a wing, or detachment of it, will gar-
rison Scylla, which is of the utmost importance to us as a
key to Italy; but, if hard pressed by Massena, they can
easily abandon it under the protection of our shipping.
" To-morrow I return to the camp, to embark the
main body of our army for Messina ,* you will, of course,
come round with Macleod's Highlanders, and rejoin
me at Palermo, where I hope we shall spend many
a merry evening in talking over our campaign among the
Apennines."
I was in a sort of a maze while the general so good-
naturedly explained his plans and orders, in which I felt
very little satisfaction. My thoughts were at the villa. To
leave Calabria at present, was, perhaps, to leave Bianca; a
deadly blow to my air-built castles; unless Massena's
legions marched south in time to change the intentions of
our leader. Belying on the general's friendship, I had no
doubt that my return to Sicily might be delayed for a
time ; therefore, I did not hesitate to solicit the appoint-
ment of commandant at Scylla, with the local rank of
major in Italy.
"You are but a young officer, and the charge is a most
the cavallo marino.
279'
important one," said he, impressively: "but you are
getting tired of me, Dundas?"
" Tar from it, Sir John ; the staff "
" I am afraid I task you too severely ; well, as a punish-
ment for your discontent, you shall have Scylla to keep,
so long as our friend Massena will permit. His advance
will soon scare the garrison out of it. I cannot refuse
you that which you underwent so many toils and risks to
attain; the nomination will appear shortly in general
orders " (he made a memorandum); " but on one condition
it is granted, that you do not spend too much of your
time at St. Eufemio."
I coloured at the inuendo, while the old fellow laughed
at what he considered a hit, and held the decanter of
glowing Zante between him and the sunlight. He shook
me heartily by the hand, and, buckling up the despatches
in my sabretache, I hurried' back to my billet to desire my
servant to pack my valise, and have all in order for
starting by daybreak.
CHAPTER XXXYI.
the cavallo marino.
The report of the morning gun had scarcely pealed
away from the ramparts, ere Brown appeared by my bed-
side, and the rdveil rang through the echoing stillness of
the castle above me. In barracks, there are few sensations
more agreeable than that of being awakened by the reveil
on the dawn of a summer's day ; gradually its sweet low
wail steals upon the waking senses, sadly and slowly at
first, then increasing in strength and power, till the full
body of music floats through the morning air, redoubled
by the echoes of the empty barrack-courts, when, as the
measure from the slowness of a Scottish lament increases
to the rapidity of a reel, the drums roll impatiently, as if
to rouse the tardy sleepers.
"Well, Bob, what kind of morning is it?" said I,
scrambling up, shivering and yawning.
" Cold and raw, sir—the drums sound as if muffled, a
sure sign of a damp morning. The galley's boat is at the
castle stairs, sir."
It was chilly and dark daybreak; the ramparts of
280 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Scylla looked black and wet; tbe sentinels, buttoned up
in tbeir dark great-coats, kept close within turret and
box; a tbick fog floated on tbe surface of tbe sea, and
rolled in eddying volumes around tbe caverned rock and
tbe bills of Milia. Witb Bob's assistance, I soon donned
my tigbt leather breeches and jack-boots, and shaved
hurriedly by candle-light, using the case of my watch, in
lieu of a dressing-glass. It was a morning of that kind
when it requires all one's resolution to leave a comfortable
bed, and turn out in five minutes, to face a drizzly fog and
cold sea-breeze; so, tightening my waist-belt, I threw my
cloak round me, bade a hasty adieu to my kind padrona
and her dishes of polenta, and sallied forth.
The boat awaited me at the sea staircase, a flight of
steps hewn in the solid rock, and descending from the
castle to the water, which was rolling in snowy foam on
those at the bottom. I threw my portmanteau on board,
and leaped after it. Brown saluted and bade me adieu,
while I warned him, on peril of his head, to attend to
Cartouche and see him duly fed and watered, as I used to
do myself.
The boat was shoved off, and we shot away into the
mist from the lofty rock of Scylla, which, with its castled
summit, loomed iike some tall giant through the flying
vapour. The oars dipped and rose from the wave in mea-
sured time, while the boatmen chanted and sang of the
glories of Massaniello, the fisherman of Amalfi, and of
the mad friar, Campanello, who led the Calabrian revolters
in 1590.
In the pauses of their chorus, I could hear the boom
of the waves in the hollow caverns, sending forth sounds
like the howling of dogs and the roaring of Scylla's
ravening wolves, who abode among darkness and misery,
and rendered the spot so terrible to the ancient mariner;
but the noise died away as the distance increased. The
fog arose from the face of the waters, the rising sun began
to gild the summits of the Sicilian and Italian hills, and I
beheld the war-galley lying, like a many-legged monster,
on the bosom of the brightening deep. We steered along-
side, the oars were laid in, and the side-ropes and ladder
were lowered into the boat, which two sailors held steady,
at stem and stern, by means of hooks. The galley was
named the Cavallo Marino, and a gigantic sea-horse
reared up at her prow ; the same emblem appeared carved
THE CAVALLO MARINO.
281
upon her quarters, and the name was painted, in large red
letters, on the broad white blade of every sweep. She was a
high vessel, pulled by fifty oars, each of them at least forty
feet long, and worked by five miserable slaves, half-naked;
they were chained by the wrists to the oar, or else fastened
to their seats, between which there ran, fore and aft, a
long plank or gangway, where the boatswain or task-
master walked about, applying his lash on the bare
shoulders of those unhappy wretches who did not exert
themselves sufficiently.
The sailors of the Cavallo Marino, about fifteen in
number, were stationed forward; she was armed with a
large thirty-two pound forecastle piece, and manned by
two hundred and fifty slaves, the dregs of the prisons and
dungeons of Naples and Sicily,—assassins, bandits, run-
away priests, and villains of all descriptions, steeped in
guilt of every imaginable kind. She had a captain, two
lieutenants, and a few petty officers, who wore the govern-
ment uniform; they were grouped on her lofty poop
when I ascended on board. I was received, according to
the custom of that service, by a cheer from the slaves;
but, alas ! such a cheer ! It was more like a yell from
the regions of darkness ; for the boatswain and his mates
used their ratans unsparingly, to increase the joy of my
arrival. Many a bitter malediction was growled by the
Italians, whose eyes gleamed like those of coiled-up
snakes ; many a pious cry to God broke from the swarthy
Algerines, who were there doing penance for the slavery
to which their countrymen subjected those unhappy
Christians who, by conquest or shipwreck, fell under their
horrible dominion. A Moor of Barbary, or a corsair of
Algeria, formed the fifth slave at every sweep. The poop
was armed with a few brass swivel guns; and the
standard, having the arms of Sicily quartered with those
of Naples, was displayed from a tall staff, rigged aft, and
hung drooping in deep folds over the water, which it swept
at times, when agitated by the morning breeze.
The officers were the only men on board who wore their
side-arms ; the slaves were all too securely chained to be
dreaded, notwithstanding their number.
By the captain, Guevarra, a pompous little Sicilian, I
was formally welcomed on board " his majesty's galley
SeaSorse" (a phrase he was very fond of repeating),
282
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
and invited to breakfast witb the officers in tbeir little den
nnder tbe poop. Here we were often in darkness, as the
long folds of tbe standard obscured tbe windows; but
wben tbe wind wafted it aside, tbe full radiance of tbe
rising sun glared in tbrougb tbe openings, on tbe ligbt-
blue uniforms, silver epaulettes, and weatber-beaten
visages of my entertainers ; on tbe glass cups of smoking
coffee and thick cbocolate, a savoury bam, witb piles of
eggs, pyramids of bread, and all tbe appurtenances of tbe
breakfast-table.
" Per Baccbo !" said tbe captain—wbo, tbougb a little
man, was armed witb a prodigious sabre, and wore a most
extravagant pair of mustacbeos—" per Baccbo ! signor,"
be continued, witb a most bland Sicilian smile, " it would
have been a particular favour, bad tbe general sent you off
do us last nigbt; by tbis time we should bave doubled
Spartivento; and, as tbere is some word of a French line-
of-battle ship being up tbe G-ulf of Tarento, bis valour
wbo commands tbe Amphion will be impatient to be joined
by bis majesty's galley Sea-Horse.—Lieutenant, I'll
"trouble you for tbe maccaroons. We shall bave some
rough weather before evening, and these double-banked
galleys ship every sea that strikes tbem.—Tbe muffins P—
witb pleasure, signor.—And, truly, one is safer anchored
close by tbe Tower of tbe Lantern, than exposed to a lee
shore and all tbe damnable currents that run round
Spartivento in tbe evening. But, bebeve me, signor, that
bis majesty's galley Sea-Horse—Boy! pass tbe word for
more coffee."
" Si signor capitano," replied a little olive-cheeked
urchin in shirt and trousers, wbo vanished witb tbe silver
coffee-pot.
" Considering tbe beauty of tbe morning, and tbe un-
clouded splendour of tbe sun, I trust," said I, "witb all
due submission to your better judgment, that you may
prove a false prophet."
"Impossible, signor!" repbed tbe Sicilian, wbo was
doing ample justice to ab tbe good things before him. " I
bave sailed in—an egg, thank you—in bis majesty's
gabeys, for forty years, and know every shoal, current,
rock, and sign of tbe Italian seas, better than tbe boasted
Palinurus of old—Better ? said I. Bab! I bold him to
be an arrant blockhead, and no seaman, to resign bis
THE CAVALLO MARINO.
283
helm to Signor Morpheus, whose ' Stygian dew' I believe
to have been a big-bellied flask of most potent Gioja or
Trench brandy."
" But Palinurus was an accursed heathen, like his
master, misnamed the 'pious iEneas;' and, having no
saint to patronize him, could erpect nothing ■ else than
mishaps," said one of the lieutenants.
" Bight, Vinoni," replied the captain; " but we, sailors
of his majesty of Sicily, are the Madonna's peculiar care.
Laugh! a tarantella in the cream-pot and fire-flies in the
marmalade. Yes, Signor Dundas," he continued, re-
suming his former theme, " there is a regular hurricane
gathering, though from what point I cannot quite deter-
mine. Last night, the yellow moon rose above the Cala-
brian hills, surrounded by a luminous halo,—a sure sign
of a tough gale, which Madonna avert; what is worse, we
may have it in our teeth, blowing right ahead, before we
round yonder Capo del Armi. On our voyage from
Palermo, yesterday, as we passed through the Lipari
Isles, they were covered by a white vapour,—-a sure sign
of a north-east wind ; but though the shore lies on our lee,
his majesty's galley can always use her sweeps, and give
it a wide berth."
" But did you not remark, signor," said Vinoni, " that
before we came in sight of the Pharo, the mist had floated
away from the Lipari, and the mouth of Stromboli threw
1 n ' 11 1 1 "" ' " waves smoked and
" Bight, Vinoni!" said the captain, whose opinion was
generally formed on that of his lieutenant: " right, corpo!
I feel it blowing down the Straits at this moment, and
the white foam that curls before it on the water, announces
a coming squall."
Leaving these weather-wise Italians to settle the matter
as they chose, I walked forward, to observe the accommo-
dation and construction of this peculiar vessel. She was
now under weigh, and, though strained from stem to stern
by every stroke of the sweeps, she moved through the
water with a motion so easy and rapid, that her officers
had little occasion to dread either contrary winds or
tides.
The broad-bladed sweeps brushed the ocean into foam,
which roared in surf beneath the sharp bows, boiling away
sure tokens of a
284 ADVENTURES OF AN" AIDE-DE-CAMP.
under the counter, and leaving astern a long white wake
in the glittering sea. The sun was now up, and his rosy
morning light cast a warm glow over land and ocean.
Captain Guevarra stood beside me on the poop, and
pointed out the different towns, mountains, and headlands,
as we moved down the Straits : his observations proved
amusing, from the strange compound of knowledge and
ignorance, religion, superstition, and vanity, they exhi-
bited.
We were soon in mid-channel: the fruitful shore of old
Trinacria, studded with innumerable towns and villages,
nestling on the green hills, embosomed among the richest
foliage, or shining along the sandy and sunny beach, rose
in succession on the view, while piles of picturesque
mountains closed the background, — and soon, chief
amongst them all, gigantic Etna reared up its mighty
eone, appearing to rise from the watery horizon on our
starboard bow. Erom its yawning crater, a lengthened
column of light vapour ascended into the pure air, in one
steady, straight, and unbroken line, piercing the pale-
blue immensity of space, and rising to an altitude where,
in the soft regions of upper air, it was for ever lost to the
eye.
As the range of the Neptunian hills, and the town of
Messina,—with its large cathedral, its numerous churches
and convents, its terraced streets, sweeping round swelling
eminences, and its busy harbour crowded by a forest of
masts,—closed, lessened, and sank astern, the bay of
Reggio, on the other hand, opened to our view, with all
the spires and casements of its town gleaming in the
beams of the morning sun, the high peaks of its hills
behind covered to the summit with dark-green pines, and
fragrant orange or citron trees. The galley-slaves were
now pulling with all their strength, to make headway
against the strong current which runs towards Cape
Pelorus, but we soon got clear of the eddies, and moved
through the water with astonishing speed.
the bace.—galley-slaves.
285
CHAPTEE XXXVII.
the bace.—galley-slaves.
"Yonder is Ehegium, signor," said the Captain Gue-
varra, " where iEolus dwelt before he removed his govern-
ment over to Sicily, and where he sold fair winds to
mariners, and tied the foul ones up in paper bags—the
cursed heathen! And yet it would be some advantage if
such commodities could be purchased in these vulgar
modern days. I have known the time when I would have
given sixty pieces of gold for a single puff of fair wind;
but that was before I had the honour of commanding his
majesty's galley Sea-Horse, and all those stout rogues
who work it. Ah ! Madonna mia!" he ejaculated, cross-
ing himself, as we walked on the weather side of the
poop; " what is all this I have been saying ? Our Lady
cf Sicily forgive me the thought, and keep me contented
with such winds as pass over the sea, without buying from
1 eathen, heretic, or devil! Viva! how bravely the old
Sea-Horse shoots through the water! Believe me, Sig-
nor Dun das, there is not another galley in the service of
his Sicilian majesty equalling this, for strength, speed,
and beauty of mould."
"Yet there is a little vessel yonder, cracking on under
every stitch of canvas, which seems able and disposed to
beat you."
"Beat the Sea-Horse—beat his majesty's galley !" cried
the little commander, stamping his feet on the deck.
" Corpo di Baccho ! if any man on board, save yourself,
signor, had even hinted that such a thing was possible, I
would have dropped him from the yard-arm, with a forty-
pound shot at his heels; I would, this instant—I, Gan-
dolfo Guevarra."
After this outburst, I did not venture on another re-
mark, and we walked up and down in silence. Between
us and Cape Pillari, a swift little Maltese schooner, of a
most rakish cut, was flying through the water, with her
snow-white canvas shining in the sun, and bellying out to
the breeze, while her flashing sweeps were moving, stroke
for stroke, with those of the galley, which she was evi-
dently leaving astern. She was low-built, almost level
with the water, which she cleft like an arrow.
u
286 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
" Ola! tlie boatswain," cried Guevarra, perspiring with
rage, which made every fibre of his little body quiver,
while he twisted his long mustaches, and looked fierce
as a rat at 'bay. " By the blood of Gennaro! that vil-
lanous craft is leaving us astern. Shall a runaway of
Malta, laden with base merchandise, beat his majesty's
galley the Sea-Horse ? No, no—Madonna ! Quick, ras-
cal! there, fly-flap the shoulders of the oarsmen, or your
own shall smart before sunset. And you, signor—master-
gunner."
" Si, signor illustrissimo."
" Beady—the gun there, forward ; to teach these vaga-
bonds to keep their distance, and not attempt to rival
those who sail under his majesty's pennant."
The forecastle-piece was double-shotted, and cleared
away for action ; while the boatswain and his mates flew
from stem to stern, lashing unmercifully the bare shoul-
ders of the slaves, with as little remorse as one would the
flanks of a vicious horse. Tremendous curses and horrible
blasphemies followed this application of the ratans, and
the unhappy wretches toiled until their swarthy skins
were deluged in perspiration, which mingled with the
blood streaming from their lacerated backs. The storm
of maledictions soon died away, their exhausted strength
requiring that they should work in silence; and I looked
on, in pity and disgust, while the miserable beings toiled
at the ponderous oars, with measured action, which strained
every muscle to its utmost power of tension. On glancing
along the rows of black-browed, unshaven, and lowering
visages, I read one expression in them all—a fearful one !
Of what demoniac minds were those stern eyes the index I
A thirst for vengeance, rather than for freedom, animated
their savage Italian hearts'; every bosom was a hell of
pent-up passion—every man a chained fiend.
The sweeps were moved by each gang rising simulta-
neously from their bench, ana then resuming the sitting
position; again rising, and again sitting, without a
moment's respite from toil; and if any man failed to exert
himself sufficiently, every slave at that particular sweep
received the same number of blows as the delinquent.
Such, G-uevarra, informed me, was the unjust rule in his
majesty's galleys. One poor wretch dropped dead; and,
while a shower of blows was distributed to his four com-
rades, to make them work harder, the iron-hearted boat-
THE EACE.—GALLEY-SLAVES.
287
swain, unlocked with, a master-key the padlock which held
the chain, and the body was flung into the deep. Many a
glance of envy followed it, as it disappeared beneath the
bright green water, and once more groans of grief and
growls of smothered rage broke forth; but, though the
slaves toiled on till the galley seemed to fly through the
water, the little scampavia still kept ahead of her.
"Work! work! or beware the scurlada," cried the
boatswain, who now flourished a gigantic whip, beneath
the whisk of which every slave cowered instinctively.
" Ahi, Fra Maso, different work this from mumbling Latin
at Palermo," he cried, bestowing a burning lash on the
back of one who had been a priest; " work, work, sloths,
if you wish not your hides flayed off*. Ola! you, there,
with the nose like Ovid, and face like the O of Giotto,
dost think thou art selling paste buckles at Messina
once more? Bend to the oar, Maestro JNaso, or feel
that !"
A yell burst from the unhappy Israelite, as the terrible
lash ploughed up his tender skin, while the task-master
continued :—" Work, work! pull away larboard and star-
board; give way, my beauties, if you would have life'left
you to behold the sun set. Bravo, my merry little devil
at the bow-oar; you seem a very Cicero, and look as if
born with the sweep in your hand."
A laugh, rising into a yell, at the bow, attracted my
attention, and, on going forward, I perceived the hunch-
back, Gaspare Truffi, tugging away at the first oar, which
he pulled in conjunction with three men, his strength
being deemed equal to that of two slaves.
As I stepped along the gangway, scowling and im-
ploring glances were cast upon me, by the swart and
naked oarsmen. I could not resist saying in a low voice,
" Poor men! truly I pity you !"
These words were not thrown away.
" Madonna bless thee, Signor Inglese," said he who had
been called Fra Maso; "like thy countrymen, thou art
merciful!"
" Merciful! bah!" cried Truffi; " have I not seen them
scourge their brave soldiers like dogs—even as we are now
scourged !"
I watched the exertions of the powerful hunchback
with surprise ; he toiled away with what appeared most,
decided good-will, without receiving a single blow from
tj 2
288 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
the boatswain, although his conical hump and shaggy
breast presented prominent marks for the taskmaster's
scourge. His aspect was grotesque beyond description,
as he tugged away and strained until every muscle in his
deformed body seemed about to snap ; his matted black
hair overhung his fierce twinkling eyes, and a forest of the
same material fringed his capacious mouth, which every
instant sent forth a yell or a shout of laughter. On my
approach, he bent to the oar with redoubled fury, raving
and. howling, while he spat towards me, in token of hatred
and undying enmity. With more astonishment than com-
miseration, with more disgust than pity, I regarded this
curious little desperado, whose hideous form contrasted so
strongly with the powerful and herculean frames of the
other slaves ; their bodies, naked to the waist, and having
every muscle hardened to rigidity by excessive toil, pre-
sented in almost every instance perfect models for the
artist and sculptor.
A half-stifled sob—a hurried exclamation—caused me to
turn towards a fine-looking old slave, to whose antique
contour of head and face additional dignity was lent by a
venerable beard, which swept his breast. Never shall I
forget the glance with which his keen, dark eyes regarded
me; his features had all that noble regularity and proud
contour which are often found in old Italian portraits ; but
there was a stern expression of care in them, and the hard
contracted lines of his face showed a long acquaintance
with grief, or an exquisite degree of mental agony. It was
the Major Gismondo ! Alas ! how changed now was the
brave old cavalry officer—the once gay cicisbeo of the
fashionable viscontessa!
" Here! you here ?" I exclaimed.
" Well may you wonder that I survive," said he, the
blood suffusing his temples when our eyes met; but he
was compelled to turn away, the whip of the boatswain at
that moment descended on his shoulders, and I returned to
the poop. My heart bled for the unmerited misery and
degradation of the poor old man; but to converse with
him was quite contrary to etiquette and orders. On
questioning Guevarra concerning him—
" I trust, signor," said he, " you will excuse me; but it
is impossible for a captain of his majesty's galleys to know
the biography of every rogue who tugs at the benches."
He coloured, with manifest confusion.
THE KACE.—GALLEY-SLAVES.
289
" A droll fellow, that hunchback,' who pulls the bow-
oar."
" Ah!" replied Guevarra, " a perfect imp of Etna; I am
very much indebted to my good friend, the visconte San-
tugo, for sending him off to me yesterday. He was caught
lurking near the villa d'Alfieri by the soldiers who guard
it. Per Baccho ! I was half frightened when I saw him on
board—ha, ha! he has all the aspect of a stunted
Cyclop, and works so well, that he has a fair prospect of
being promoted to the rank of task-master. He laughs,
chuckles, and sings incessantly, but for what reason is
beyond my comprehension, as there is nothing here but
hard work, heavy blows, and scanty provender—unless we
except the honour of serving in his majesty's galley Sea-
Horse. Diavolo !" he cried, rushing to the other side of
the poop, " the Maltese schooner has passed us. Pull,
rascals—give way ye lubberly Padri—give way fore and
aft! Shall the gallant Cavallo Marino, the flower of our
galleys, and the peculiar care of our thrice-blessed Ma-
donna, be beaten by a d d scampavia?" He bowed and
crossed himself with great devotion before a little gilt
figure of the Virgin, which occupied a niche in the centre
of a row of brightly-painted buckets, ranged along the top
of the poop. But Madonna was sued in vain. Again the
whistling ratans were flourished on all sides; even Gas-
pare Truffi did not escape, and his elfish yell sounded
shrill as the whistle of a steam-engine, when the blows
descended on his naked hump.
On—on shot the scampavia, and the lofty galley toiled
after her in vain; the former carried a press of canvas
sufficient to run her under the water, which flashed like
blue fire before her sharp prow, and she shipped sea after
sea, as we rounded the Capo del Armi, and the snow-
clad summit of Etna sank beneath the dim horizon
astern; the water was getting rough, the breeze in-
creasing, and it was evident that she must take in sail or
be capsized. A half-smothered cheer arose from her
crew, who crowded her side, as they saw us rapidly
dropping astern.
Boundless was the wrath of Guevarra; he stamped
about the deck, while his long sword became entangled
at every stride with his little bandy legs : he curled his
bushy whiskers, fumed and blasphemed like a pagan.
290
ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Save the slaves, all on board, more or less, partook of his
chagrin; while smiling at his rage, even I could not avoid
a feeling of annoyance, for one becomes jealous of being
passed at sea, or beaten by a rival mail, or getting the
" go-by " from a friend's team on a country road.
" By the miraculous blood of Gennaro ! I will teach
these mongrel curs, these Arabian Maltese, to beware how
they try speed with his majesty's galley. Is the gun
ready there forward ?"
"All ready, Signor Capitano," replied the gunner,
taking the tompion from the lofty forecastle-piece, and
lighting his match.
" Then give them a shot between wind and water.
Madonna speed the ball—fire!"
The helmsman brought the galley's head round, and the
thirty-two pounder was levelled and fired. The Sea-Horse
shook with the concussion; the shot whistled over the
water; a breach was made in the low bulwarks of the
Maltese, and a shower of white splinters flew away to
leeward. The schooner was immediately thrown in the
wind; down came her fore and main topsails, her jib and
staysail, like lightning on her deck, while the scarlet flag
of Britain was run up to her gaff-peak. The galley shot
ahead ; her great latteen sail, that tapered away and aloft,
was braced sharp up, and once more we flew forward,
while the Maltese did not again begin to make sail, until
she was a league or so astern.
" Bravissimo, Sea-Horse !" said Guevarra, clapping his
hands in glee. "Now we are leaving her, hand over
hand."
In the ardour of the race, he had not been paying
due attention to his course ; and, in keeping to seaward of
the scampavia, which was probably bound for the Venetian
Gulf, the galley was further from the land than she ought
to have been ; her head was turned northward, and, as we
slowly approached the Apennine chain, the promontory of
Hercules rose gradually on the view.
We now made but little progress; the breeze had died
away; the heat of the day was intense, for the sirocco
Iras abroad, and the air was glittering with sulphury par-
tides, blown, probably, from the peak of Etna. Wearied
with their late exertions, the over-tasked slaves, exposed
to the broiling sun, sat gazing listlessly, with their glaring
THE RACE.—GALLEY-SLAVES.
291
and bloodshot eyes, on the glassy sea; and even the ra-
tan of the drowsy and perspiring boatswain failed to rouse
them from their apathy. The little way we made was
solely owing to the large square mainsail; and, though
the galley lay close to the scarcely perceptible current of
air, our progress was not a mile an hour; yet, long before
the setting sun began to redden the blue Ionian Sea,
Guevarra had the mortification to see the little Maltese
pull with her sweeps round the promontory and disappear.
During the weary noon of that scorching day, while the
wretched slaves sat naked at their oars, exposed to the
fierce bright sun, Guevarra and his officers were seated
under a cool awning on the poop, enjoying their siesta,
after a luncheon of light fruits and lighter wines, while the
boatswain, his mates, the gunner and his mates, chewed
their maccaroni, and drank cold water, under a similar
contrivance, on the forecastle. Miserable was the plight
of the poor unpitied slaves ; chained to the oaken bench,
which formed their seat when they toiled, and their bed
when they slept, and on which they were alternately ex-
posed by noon to the broiling heat of an Italian meridian,
and by night to the chill blasts of the ocean; half naked,
continually suffering castigation, fed on the worst and
coarsest food, and packed so closely, that dreadful diseases
were continually breaking out among them.
The day became closer; not a breath stirred the lan-
guid, breezeless air; the sea-birds floated on the still
bosom of the glassy deep, and the mainsail flapped heavily
on the mast as the galley rolled on the slow-heaving
ground swell. She was drifted shoreward by the kcur-
rents : in the afternoon we were close to the land, and I
began to fear that my journey to Crotona would be of
longer duration than the general expected.
292
adventures of an aide-de-camp.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
the revolt of the galley-slaves.
It was night—beautiful night! The cold, pale moon
gleamed on the waste of waters, on the silent shore, on
the hills of Magna Grsecia, and on the wide Ionian Sea.
Ten thousand luminous animalculse glittered in its briny
depth, as if to rival the bright stars above, while the white
columns on a distant promontory,—the last relics of a
people, a power, and a creed that have passed away,—the
wooded mountains, and the pebbled beach, and Albanian
Bova, the towers of Theodosia, La Bianca, and other
towns, rose in succession on our view, all glittering in the
radiance of that broad and lovely moon.
A [guitar broke the silence, accompanied by a clear
voice: it was voung Vinoni, chanting a verse of Pig-
notti's " Novella," beginning with " Donne leggiadre,
allorehe," &c.
" Woman enchanting! when I look on thy form,
And behold the soft graces of lip, cheek, and hair;
And thy bosom of snow, nature's loveliest charm,
Ah! who would not kiss it, and love to die there ?
Sweet to behold the unsullied snow!
The dark eye that rolls
" Come, come, caro tenente, stop your twangling, and
make sail on the galley!" cried Guevarra, starting up
from the sleep he had enjoyed under the awning since
dinner. " Corpo di Baccho! here comes the breeze at
last," he continued, snuffing it over the quarter ; " and the
tunnv-fish—ah! the fine fellows, see how they are passing
us in shoals."
Humming "Donne leggiadre," &c., the lieutenant
relinquished his guitar, and looked intently over the
quarter.
" Ha! Signor Guevarra, I knew that the clear fires of
Stromboli betokened something—behold !" As he spoke,
a heavy and dense bank of clouds spread from the northern
horizon, and gradually veiled the whole sky; the moon
disappeared, or shot forth her lustre only at times on the
whitening waves ; the sea became black, and the land
loo med close and high. The mainsail filled as the breeze
fre shened, and the boatswain warned the slaves to prepare
for hard work.
THE EE VOLT OF THE GALLEY-SLAVES.
293
The darkness was now dense, and I felt, I knew not
why, considerable anxiety as to the issue of the night.
The little captain generally about this time retired to his
cabin, to enjoy, alone, his cigar and a glass of lacrima,
resigning the command to Yinoni. The features of the
young lieutenant were clouded with care, or by some
gloomy presentiment; he often walked to windward, to
watch the weather and look at the waves, which the
rushing breeze edged with white. Suddenly he ordered
the great mainsail to be furled, and all made snug for the
night.
"Out sweeps: give way there forward!" The shrill
pipe of the boatswain echoed his command, and a commo-
tion immediately took place among the slaves, who had
hitherto been sitting, silent and motionless, in the dark.
From the bosom of the startled deep, a fierce yell arose.
Imagine my astonishment and the horror of Yinoni, on
beholding the galley-slaves, instead of resuming their
monotonous labour at the oar, spring up at once from
their benches, and rush, some forward and some aft,
shouting like devils or maniacs broken loose.
A desperate but momentary conflict ensued: most of
the seamen were tossed overboard, while the rest were
driven below the forecastle. Yinoni, brave to rashness,
sprang to the front of the poop, and, drawing from his
belt pistols (which the galley-officers were never without),
he fired, and a slave fell bleeding on the deck ; then rush-
ing to the swivel-guns, he slued them round, to sweep the
waist,—but they were without matches, and useless. In-
stinctively I drew my sabre, but old Gismondo threw his
arms around me.
" Madman !" he exclaimed, "would you tempt the un-
fettered fury of two hundred and fifty ruffians, the fiercest
in Italy,—men whom years of slavery, tyranny, and toil,
have transformed into demons? Sheath your sword,
signor—I alone can protect you." I returned my sabre
to its scabbard, but a groan burst from me on beholding
what followed.
" Corpo di Baccho ! what is all this ?" cried the captain,
rushing upon the poop ; " eh! a mutiny—a revolt in his
majesty's " in a moment he was borne over, and dashed
to the deck by the hunchback, who instantly brained poor
Yinoni with one blow of a handspike. With one of his
elfish laughs, he was rushing upon me, whirling his club
294 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
aloft; and, but for the stern intervention of Signor Gis-
mondo, my campaign and my days bad ended together*
By what agency he exercised authority over these lawless
spirits, I know not, but the most forward of them slunk
away, to continue the work of slaughter elsewhere : and
frightful were the outcries and din around us, as the task-
masters and mariners perished beneath the weaponless
hands, and even the teeth, of those over whom they had
So long tyrannized. In one minute, the galley was in the
possession of the slaves ; and the unfortunate captain, his
boatswain, and two or three Sicilians of his crew, were
dragged along the benches, bound with cords.
" Follow me—this way, signor—ere worse come of your
remaining on deck," said Gismondo, hurrying me into a
cabin, and shutting the sliding-door. " I will forget," he
added, with an icy smile, " how coldly and cruelly you
stood by while my—my daughter, was murdered by that
high-born ruffian, Bivona. May his race perish, or be
followed by a curse to its latest generation!"
" Keenly at this moment do I feel the reproach,—yet
what could I do ?"
" Had you not a sabre P" he asked, with fierce contempt.
" Her death—it slaked not the thirsty vengeance of our
accursed chiefs—they sent me to these galleys- " he
threw himself on a locker, and covered bis face with his
hands.
How full of excitement and of agony was that time to
me ! Sad were the cries for pity, uttered to the pitiless—■
for mercy from those who had never received it, and knew
it not—which mingled with the hideous uproar that
reigned on the creaking deck above us. I heard plunge
after plunge, as the corded victims were flung overboard
by the desperate revolters, who, to refine upon cruelty,
tied them back to back, and so hurled them into the
Seething waves, without the least chance of escape.
At last, all was silent; the plunges were heard no more,
and the last cry of despair had died away on the wind: I
heard the heavy sweeps once more dipping in the water,
and knew, by the straining of the timbers and clatter
of the thole-pins, that the Sea-Horse was under weigh
again.
" I hope, major, your late companions do not mean to
carry me off a prisoner!"
"No," he replied, gloomily, "and your life is safe,
the bevolt of the galley-slaves.
295
These unhappy men have no cause to be your enemies—
you will be shortly sent ashore."
" But how were you all enabled to break loose, as if by
magic ?"
" The little hunchback, whom I verily believe to be
Satan, possessed strength sufficient to wrench his fetters
in two; he then stole the master-key from the belt of the
boatswain, as he slept beside the windlass ; it was handed
along the banks of oars—up the larboard and down the
starboard benches — each slave in succession unlocking
his manacles, until it came to me, when I opened the
accursed padlock, and flung it, fetters, key, and all, into
the ocean."
"And these ruffians "
" Will form no mean recruit to Erancatripa, Benincasa,
or some of those other robber chiefs who divide the hills
and forests of Calabria among them."
At that moment, we heard the splash of a quarter-boat,
as it was hastily lowered down from the davits.
" Signor," said Gismondo, rising, " the boat awaits you,
and the sooner we separate the better. A den such as
this, crowded with these poor wretches, whom servile
labour and the lash have degraded to the condition of
brutes, cannot be agreeable to one in the honourable
station of a cavalier—a soldier—such as I once was in
happier days. Adieu !" he pressed my hand, and led me
to the side of the galley, where the boat was held close to
the ladder by Era Maso and three other slaves, who had
chosen to land on that part of the coast.
"You accompany me, of course, Signor Major?" said I.
"Never! Broken in spirit—degraded as I am—this
naked body—these scars : away, leave me to my misery!
leave me ! These poor men, at least, will not shrink
from—adieu ! Signor Dundas—adieu ! Fra Maso—shove
Before descending into the boat, I was compelled to
deliver up my watch and purse; my sabretache was
searched, but returned to me, when found to contain only
1 " 1 papers. I should probably have
fighting pair, they had become so tarnished by smoke
and weather, that the searchers allowed them to pass
unnoticed.
Gaspare Truffi had now succeeded poor little Guevarra
off!
epaulettes, but, as they were my
296
ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
in command of " his' majesty's galley," as the reward of
his strength and cunning. He was seated in Madonna's
niche, on the poop, kicking his heels, swinging his long
arms like the sails of a mill, shrieking, swearing, and
drinking from a flask of lacrima, by turns. About twenty
sweeps were manned, but the greater number of slaves
were busy rummaging every lockfast place in search of
plunder.
The night was black and stormy; not a star was visible,
and the dark outline of the land rose up high and gloomily
above us. We heard the boom of the white breakers, as
they rolled on the rocky and silent shore, and their echoes
mingled with the dash of the long sweeps, as the galley
was pulled away, and disappeared in the obscurity
around us.
When again I met the Signor Grismondo, it was under
very different circumstances : more fortunate than myself,
he reached Crotona next day, and was protected by the
duke di Bagnara, who gave him a command in his battalion
of the Free Calabri.
We were soon amidst the surf; and as the boat shipped
sea after sea, we were quickly drenched to the skin.
While I sat shivering in the stern-sheets, the four rescued
slaves pulled on in silence, and with all their strength,
lifting the light shallop out of the water at every stroke,
in their eagerness to tread on earth once more. How
joyously and strongly they seemed to stretch their now
unfettered limbs ! Having the tiller-ropes, I steered the
boat towards a piece of sandy beach, which we discerned
through the gloom ; and, not without fear of crashing on
some concealed rock, I saw its head shoot into a narrow
creek, between two jutting crags, against which the eastern
current of the Ionian Sea was running in mountains of
angry foam. In consequence of the boat's headway, the
fury with which she was pulled, and the strength of the
current, she was run up high and dry on the beach, with
a concussion that nearly tossed us all out on the sand.
The rowers leaped up with a triumphant shout of " Buon
viaggio, Signor Inglese!" and, springing away towards
the hills, left me to my own reflections.
Behold me, thfen, in a most desolate condition : landed
at midnight on the sea-shore, in a remote part of Calabria,
—the lawless land of robbery and outrage,—then " the
terra incognita of Europe," minus my valise and purse,
the three candle-ends.
297
and without a guide. The rogues had stripped me of
everything, save Bianca's dear little ring, the diamond of
which my thick leathern glove had concealed from their
prying eyes.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
the three candle-ends.
Eor sometime I sat by the sea-shore, reflecting on what
course to pursue, until the increased howling of the wind,
the roar of the surf, and a drop or two of rain splashing on
my face, announced that a rough morning was coming on.
Hot knowing whom I might encounter, I regretted the
want of my pistols. Stumbling landward from the rocky
beach, I succeeded in discovering a rude flight of steps, hewn
in the balsaltic rocks which faced the sea ; hut so obscure
was all around, that, on gaining the summit, I knew not
whether the dark chaotic masses before me were a bank of
clouds, orthe termination of the long chain of the Apennines.
In a short time, I perceived a light twinkling through
the gloom, and could discern a little bay or harbour, where
three small craft lay at anchor, close under the lee of the
high land. A narrow path brought me to a neat little
cottage, over the low roof of which the vines clambered,
mingling with the orange-trees, which raised their rich
foliage and golden fruit above the sea-heat promontory.
The wind was increasing, the clouds began to whirl and
break, the rain to descend, and a single star, red, bright,
and fiery, sparkling on the dark and distant horizon, was
lost at times, as the billows of the Ionian main tumbled and
rolled between it and me. Gladly I knocked at the cot-
tage door, and, after a long delay, an aged domestic appeared
at a loop or slit, through which the rays .of her lamp shot
forth, radiating into the gloom; she seemed unable to
understand, and unwilling to admit me.
" Open the door," said a man's voice, " should it be a
robber, what have we to fear? I never harmed the
brigands, and they dare not to meddle with me."
I expected, from this defying and confident tone, to be-
hold some very ferocious personage when the door was
opened, and was therefore agreeably surprised on being
welcomed by areverendold man, with silver hairs, and a most
298
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
patriarchal heard flowing from a pleasing and benevolent
countenance. It was my old friend, the Basilian priest of
Squillaci, and we immediately recognized each other. On
my apologizing for disturbing him at an hour so unreason-
able, he replied,—-
" Say no more, signor; I am the priest of this district,
and my door is open to all; from the great lord to the poor
lazzarone, all are equally welcome here. But thrice wel-
come the soldier ; for, though now but a poor padre, I have
borne arms in my youth, and fought in the wars of Charles
of Parma, and I love the sight of a soldier, for the sake of
the thoughts of other years."
In the snug room of the Basilian, with my feet on the
fire-pan of charcoal, I partook of a slight supper, and
related the seizure of the galley and the destruction of her
officers and crew—a tale which filled the gentle old Greek
with horror. I then recurred to the urgent nature of my
despatches, and the dilemma in which I found myself, in
consequence of being stripped of everything requisite to
enable me to pursue my journey.
" Keep yourself easy, signor," said my host; " a little
craft, bound northward, put into the harbour below, a few
hours after sunset, to repair some damage sustained at sea,
and I have no doubt her master will, at my request, be
happy to land you at Crotona."
I was well pleased to hear this. After a little more con-
versation, the Basilian retired, and I slept till sunrise upon
his sofa, with my cloak over me.
The skipper of whom he had spoken came to breakfast
with us, and I discovered he had charge of the scampavia
which had suffered from the Sea-Horse s forecastle gun.
Her starboard bulwark and part of her mainmast had been
so much injured, that he had run into the little cove for
the double purpose of repairing the damage and waiting
till the threatened squall blew past.
Maestro Maltei was, as his name imports, a thorough
Maltese—quick-sighted, polite, and intelligent. His fea-
tures displayed all the national peculiarities of his race;
the black, shining Arabian eyes, thick lips, and swarthy
visage. He was a stout man, upwards of thirty, and clad
in a yellow cotton shirt, embroidered on the breast and
sleeves; over it he wore an ample vest of red velvet,
adorned with innumerable little silver buttons ; a long
silk scarf encircled his waist, and retained his sheathed
THE THBEE CANDLE-ENDS.
299
knife, and on his head he wore a long tri-coloured woollen
cap, which hung down his hack below the waistband of his
white cotton breeches. He had rings in his ears, and a
rosary round his neck: altogether, Maestro Maltei, though
he had much of the pirate in his aspect, was, in reality, as
smart a nautical dandy as one could see in these days
lounging about the galley-arches at Malta.
After breakfast, he returned on board, promising to
send for me when ready to put to sea. Anxious to pro-
ceed, I watched from the windows of the priest's house the
operations of the carpenter busy at work, though the
weather was lowering, and torrents of rain fell at intervals
during the day, which dragged on slowly. I soon became
heartily tired of the Basilian, who bored me, for six con-
secutive hours, with an essay he was writing on the lives of
two eminent ancients—Quintius Ennius, a Calabrian, the
Mend of Scipio and Lselius, author of eighteen books of
metrical annals, and tragedies, epigrams, and satires in-
numerable ; and Aurelius Cassiodorus, a Iloman patrician
and minister of Theodric, who founded a great monas-
tery near Squillaci, where he wrote a history of the
Goths.
Politeness compelled me to endure complacently the
learned pedantry of the reverend father, to whose hospir
tality I was so much indebted; but I rejoiced when the
bare-legged mate of the Santelmo approached with the in-
formation that she was ready to put to sea. Immediately
after dinner, I went on board, with my ears ringing with
the Grecian's sonorous voice, and the epigrams, satires,
and witty sayings of the immortal Quintius, whom I
had never heard of before, and have seldom heard of
since.
The weather, which had been alternately cloudy and
sunny, now settled down into a dull grey evening; the
whole sky became canopied by dusky vapour, which
towards sunset was streaked with a pale, stormy yellow ;
the saffron sun was seen for a few minutes, as it sank behind
the hills of Oppido, and, as the light died away, the sea turned
gloomy and black. The wind blew in gusts, and the bil-
lows rolled on the beach with a hollow sound: everything
betokened a rough night; but the Maltese were ready for
sea, and the warps were cast off. I had some misgivings
about sailing in such weather, but concealed my anxiety.
The other two craft, a xebecque and a sloop, remained at
300
ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
anchor, and their crews showed no sign of preparing for
sea. I spoke of this to Maestro Maltei, and asked if he
thought they expected rough weather.
"Probably they do, signor," said he, removing his
cigar, as he walked to and fro on the weather side of the
quarter-deck, while the fleet schooner flew onward,
straining under her bellying canvas. " The masters are
timid Venetians, and the sailors tremble for their share of
the cargo."
" Then stormy weather is expected?"_
" Doubtless we shall have a dirty night; but, having
repaired all the damage done by that cursed shot, and,
moreover, having received from my very good friend,
the Basilian father, three sacred wax candles, which have
burned before the shrine of Our Lady of Bova, after being
duly blessed and sanctified by the bishop of Cosenza "
" And with these "
"We light our binnacle, and no danger can overwhelm
us."
" On the faith of these, you put to sea on a stormy night!
—■three old candle-ends "
" Undoubtedly, signor," said he, turning away abruptly,
while I was equally annoyed by his folly and igno-
ranee.
The Santelmo, as she was named, was a smart little
schooner, with a lofty, tapering mainmast; she was broad
in the beam, but sharp at the bows, where an image of
her saintly patron spread his arms above the deep. Her
well-scrubbed decks were flush and white, while the brass
plates on her four carronades, her binnacle-lamps, and the
copper on her sides, were all polished, and shone like bur-
nished gold. She was gaudily painted, and straight as a
lance from stem to stern. With a11 1
soon saw the lights of Grierazzo and the Locrian tern-
pies of Palepoli vanish behind us in the dusk. Upon a
wind, the Sa itelmo sailed admirably, and midnight saw us
far beyond the Capo Stilo ; but the breeze had increased
so much, that, notwithstanding his intense faith in the
candle-ends, Maltei was obliged to take in sail. Still more
tough grew the gale ; the night became darker ; the high
outline of the Calabrian hills could be discerned no more,
and the breaking sea was covered with white foam. The
miraculous candles had been lighted in the binnacle with
we ran along the coast, favoured
THE THEEE CANDLE-ENDS.
301
great formality by tbe cabin-boy, on bis bare knees, im-
ploring, at the same time, in the names of St. Elmo and
St. John of Malta, a peaceful night for the master and
crew.
The blessed candles burned and sputtered merrily ; the
bushy-whiskered and grim-visaged timoniere hitched up
his cotton breeches, twitched down the net which confined
his long black hair, and grasped the helm in confident
silence. But harder blew the wind; it roared through
the rigging, and the Santelmo was soon flying through the
rolling sea, stripped of half her canvas.
The mate slung himself from the spritsail-yard, and,
when endeavouring to place a candle in the hand of the
image on the cutwater, dropped overboard, and (poor
fellow!) was seen no more. The sailors now became
excited.
" Clew rup the fore-topsail—in with the fore-staysail!
Saints and devils! be quick, will you!" yelled Maltei,
through his speaking-trumpet. " Close reef the foresail,
and take in everything else fore and aft. Per Baccho !—
Our blessed Lady !—JDevil in hell! Look sharp, will ye !
Quick, there, or I will shoot the last man off the deck.
Away, aloft, while ye can get out on the yard!" But not
a man would venture, and Maltei might as well have roared
to the wind.
" Corpo ! you blundering asses, let all go by the sheets,
then. Apostles and angels ! Quick, cowards! let fly, or
the masts will go by the board."
The order was obeyed ; the cordage rattled, the blocks
shrieked, the canvas flew to leeward, split to ribands,
which crackled and lashed the rigging as they flapped on
the furious wind; but we escaped a capsize, and the
schooner skimmed along under her close-reefed foresail,
while Maltei took the tiller, and strove to keep her to her
nourse, swearing and praying by turns.
The loss of the mate and the increasing tempest ren-
dered all gloomy and discontented. Anon, there was a cry.
I instinctively grasped the bulwarks. A tremendous sea
was shipped ; it swept over the whole deck, washing three
sailors, the long boat, all the spare booms and spars, over-
board; also the binnacle, with the compass and—horror of
horrors !—the three miraculous candles, which were extin-
guished in an instant.
A howl of dismay burst from the Maltese, who from that
302
ADVENTTJHES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAIIP.
time seemed to abandon all hope and exertion. For a mo-
ment, the schooner staggered and stood still; had such
another sea burst over her, she must have foundered ; but,
saved by her buoyancy, as the water ran off her deck, she
again plunged forward on her perilous path. A groan
burst from Maltei on beholding the candles washed over-
board ; he quitted the helm, and abandoned the schooner
to her fate.
" Signer Maltei—Padrone di Yascello—madman and
blockhead !" I exclaimed, rushing towards the tiller, which
snapped its ropes and was dashed to pieces in an instant.
The Sautelmo fell away round, and yawing from side to
side, flew at a fearful rate before the wind. There was a
crash ! the foremast went by the board, bringing the main-
topmast down with it; the wreck fell to leeward, and was
swept away astern, while the vessel lay a helpless log upon
the sea, tossing about like a cork, and exposed continually
to the waves, which hurried on in successive mountains, as
if to overwhelm the shattered ship, rolling with fury over
the deck, and burying her far into the deep, dark trough of
the midnight sea. A torrent of water pouring down the
companion-hatch filled the cabin ; others succeeded ; the
vessel became water-logged, and the wood lumber in her
hold alone prevented her from sinking.
" Holy Saint Elmo! blessed Madonna ! and O Thou,
who walked on the waters—who said to the storm, ' Be
still,' and it was still—look upon us !" cried the survivors
of the crew.
" Master Maltei," said I, bitterly, " you have thrown
away your vessel, and the lives of all on board, by your
despicable ignorance and want of seamanship. Your crew
are cowards, and unworthy to sail under a British flag!"
He made no reply ; but, sunk in gloomy apathy, remained
lashed to the capstan, while I secured myself similarly to
the windlass ; from stem to stern the bulwarks were
totally gone, save a fragment which afforded me shelter at
the bow.
"When the storm lulled a little, I prevailed on the sailors
to rig a sail forward with some canvas, and" two spare
spars brought up from below; and a jury foremast was
soon set up, with a dexterity which showed what the men
were capable of, if properly directed. Now, once more
before the fierce hurricane, the sharp schooner drove on,
with the speed'of a galloping horse; but whether running
THE THEEE CANDLE-ENDS.
303
in full career against the rocks of Stilo, or away into the
Ionian Sea, we had not the least idea. The seven sur-
vivors began to work at the pumps, and we all took heart
anew as daylight slowly approached, and the long night,
with its excitement and horror, passed away.
• It came, the sunless morning—a grey sky, a black sea
—a cold gloom everywhere. Afar off, we discerned land
on the larboard-bow; but there was not a sail in sight,
save a ship which rode securely under the coast, with her
top-gallant-masts struck. I had no doubt it was the
Amphion anchored off Cape della Colonna, the promontory
so close to the place of my destination.
We were drenched to the skin, and had been so all
night; we were without food, yet continued to toil at the
pumps, which soon, to our great dismay, brought up clear
water. The sea having torn away stern-post and rudder,
the pumps were our only chance of safety; and the
Maltese, encouraged by my example (more than that of
their skipper), worked until they were sinking with
fatigue. On, on we flew before the sweeping wind, and
soon lost sight of
" Fair Lacinia, graced with Juno's fane."
Once more the mountains sank beneath the horizon,
and soon nothing but sea and sky were around us, as we
flew before the blast into the Gulf of Tarentum, where we
Were at the mercy of the wind and tide during the whole
of that miserable day. The sailors became dejected ; three
quitted the pumps and betook themselves to prayer, and
the leaks gained on us. Tour men still continued to toil,
exposed to every wave that washed over the defenceless
deck, which was then almost level with the ocean, and the
planking was so slippery, that we were in continual danger
of being carried away to leeward.
" The sunless day went down;" night began to darken
sea and sky, and we contemplated its approach with
gloomy forebodings and absolute horror. The Santelmo
now made less way, in consequence of the thoroughly
wetted state of her cargo, which buried her to the chain-
plates in the water, where she lurched and pitched heavily.
When it was dark, the gale increased; not a star was
visible, and the dense gloom thickened in every direction
around us.
By breaking through a bulk-head, the carpenter con-
x 2
304 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
trived to get up a keg of brandy from the forehold, and
with a reckless shout the sailors crowded around him.
They drank copiously, and the liquor rendered them mad ;
they yelled and screamed, shaking their clenched hands
at the storm in defiance, reviling the Basilian and his
candles, and cursing St. Elmo, whose head the carpenter
clove with his hatchet.
In the midst of this ghastly merriment, while they were
dancing furiously, hand in hand, over the slippery deck, a
tremendous sea took us right amidship. I saw it coming
on, dark, heaving, and terrible—a roaring mountain of
liquid blackness—and embraced the windlass with all the
strength with which despair and love of life endued me.
In irresistible fury, the stupendous wave rolled its mighty
volume over the wreck ; when it passed away, I was alone.
It had swept, into the boiling sea, every one of them. A
cry came feebly on the bellowing wind, and all was over.
I heard only the hiss of the dashing spray, and the plung-
ing of the wreck, as alternately it rose on the crest of a
wave, and thundered down into the yawning ocean. I had
bound myself securely to the windlass with my sash, and
my principal fear was, that the; water-logged hull might
sink, for in such a sea, and when so far from land, swim-
ming would be unavailing.
O, the multiplied horrors of that dismal night! How
gladly, amid that intense ocean, Solitude, I would have
hailed the sound of a human voice—a glimpse of the dis-
tant shore—a gleam from a lonely star. Strange visions
of home and happiness—of sunny fields and green, moving
woods—floated before me. Then came other scenes and
sounds; the boom of cannon and the roll of the drums.
Now I was leading on my stormers at Scylla ; anon, I was
with Bianca—I heard her soft, low voice, her sweet Italian
tone, and her gentle hand clasped mine— * * *
who is he ?
305
CHAPTEK XL.
who is he?
Erom a state of dreamy apathy—a delirium between
sleeping and waking; the very fever of desperation—the
increased roar of ocean aroused me. Through the sullen
gloom I discerned, ahead, a mighty harrier of rocks,
against which the sea was running with incredible fury,
casting the foam of its breakers to the clouds, and hurry-
ing the wreck onwards to total destruction. I heard my
heart beat; the critical moment was come, for safety or
destruction. I drew off my boots, buttoned up the de-
spatches in the breast of my coat, and casting another
glance at that frowning, sable, and appalling barrier of
rock, felt my heart sink within me; yet that heart had
never quailed in the breach, or on the battle-field.
An exclamation of sincere piety escaped my lips, and
suppliantly my hands were raised to heaven. Xext moment
there was a frightful crash! the parting wreck sank
beneath me, the deck split under my feet, and I was
struggling breathlessly in the dark water, amid the dash-
ing breakers, which were covered with froth and foam,
and fragments of spare masts, yards, ribs, cargo, planks,
&c.; from these I received more than one severe blow;
while blinded with spray, sick at heart, and trembling in
every nerve, I swam towards this black and terrible shore.
Thrice my hand touched the slippery rocks, and thrice the
greedy waves sucked me back into their whirling vortex;
but one flung me headlong forward on a ledge, and I
grasped, convulsively, the strong, tough sea-weed which
grew on its beetling face.
Eervently thanking heaven for my escape, I clambered
up the slippery cliffs, beyond the reach of the breakers,
whose bitter and heavy spray beat over me incessantly.
After stopping for a few minutes to recover breath, and
recall my scattered energies, I ascended to the summit;
the level country spread before me, and a few lights
sparkling at a distance, announced a neighbouring town.
A distant bell tolled the eleventh hour as I walked for-
ward along a road bordered by trees ; but my knees bent
tremulously at every step, for I felt still the roll of the
306 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
ship and the dull boom of the ocean, and the hiss of its
salt frothy breakers yet rang in my ears.
As if its object had been accomplished in the destruc-
tion of the little schooner, the storm, which had raged so
long, now began to die away; the trees became less
agitated ; the veil of dark clouds, which had obscured the
face of heaven, withdrew, and the silver stars were seen
sparkling in the blue dome above.
Though rejoicing in my safety, and pitying the poor
fellows who had perished, I moved on in dread and doubt,
shivering with cold and misery. My uniform was drenched
with salt-water, and stuck close to me, and my head and
feet were without covering. I longed to learn whether
fate had thrown me on the Calabrian shore, or on that of
Otranto ; if on the latter, I felt certain of becoming a
prisoner to the French, whose commanders often displayed,
at that time, more of the savage spirit of the Revolutionists,
than of that chivalry which distinguished the brave sol-
diers of the empire. "When I thought on the many years
of captivity which might elapse ere I again beheld Bianca
or my home, I almost regretted that the ocean had not
swallowed me up, immediate death appearing preferable
to the sickening future I anticipated; hope deferred for
years, promotion stopped, and prospects blighted, perhaps,
for ever.
As I walked slowly forward, my feet were soon cut by
the hard flinty road, which I pursued towards the town.
But the appearance of a handsome little villa, in the centre
of a lawn, standing by the wayside, changed my inten-
tions ; I did not hesitate to approach the house, deeming
it safer to acquaint an Italian gentleman with my con-
diiion, than to proceed, with the chance of being captured
by the quarter-guard of a French camp or canton-
ment.
. Passing through an ornamental wicket, I approached
the villa, which was surrounded by a paved terrace, en-
closed by a stone balustrade ; every window was dark,
save one on the ground-floor, which appeared made to
open like a folding door. In front of this, a flight of
marble steps descended from the terrace, between two
pedestals, on each of which reposed a sculptured lion. I
stood before the window, between the crimson curtains of
which the interior was revealed, and its decorations and
WHO IS HE?
807
furniture were nxore splendid tb.au the general aspect of
the villa led me to expect.
An aged man, of a venerable, benign, and truly noble
aspect, sat near an ebony table, on which he leant, in-
tently reading by the light proceeding from the globe of a
silver lamp. He wore a baretta of crimson velvet, adorned
in front with a gold cross, and a cape and stockings of
scarlet, peeped out from under an ample dressing-gown of
faded brocade, which enveloped his person. A few thin
silvery hairs escaped from beneath his cap, and they glit-
tered in the lamp-light; his forehead was high and com-
man ding, the curve of his lip was majestic, and there was
an indescribable dignity in his whole aspect. His cheek and
brow were pale; yet, at times, his eyes sparkled as
brightly as those of an Italian girl, as he conned over an
old and discoloured piece of parchment, to which various
seals and coloured ribands were attached.
I know not what it was that agitated me at that moment,
but there was something in the presence of that venerable
stranger, which, as it were, drew me insensibly towards
him; and all dread of acquainting him with my situation,
and intrusting him with my liberty and safety, vanished.
Once more, ere essaying, I looked steadily at him. He
was replacing the charter in an iron safe, and had drawn
forth another, to which a seal, like a pancake, was ap-
pended. The light flashed more fully on his features than
it had done before ; and, strange to say, they appeared to
me like those of an old friend, or of one whom I had a
dim recolle ction of having seen before : but where, I en-
deavoured in vain to recollect.
" O, my illustrious brother!" he exclaimed, "though
thy gallant heart is mouldering at Frescati, thy memory
will be cherished while chivalry and valour are respected
among men ! " He paused, and lay back in an arm-chair,
when I could perceive that tears were running down his
cheeks; but the deep emotion passed away, and he
again resumed his reading. I then tapped gently on the
casement, and lifting the latch, entered the apart-
ment.
"Pardon this intrusion—be not alarmed, reverend
signor."
He started; the paper fell from his hand; he closed
the safe with precipitation, and grasping the gilded knobs
308 ADVENTTJBES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
of his arm-chair, stared at me in astonishment. Certainly,
my appearance was not very prepossessing; my old
fighting-coat, which had long since acquired a purple hue
by campaigning and the blood of wounds, had become of
a most unique colour, by being drenched in salt-water. I
was unshaven, grisly, and gaunt of visage; minus boots
and hat, and my damp hair hung around my face in
matted locks.
" A British officer in my presence, and at this time of
night!" he exclaimed. "Whence come you, sir?" he
added, surveying me with a proud, stern glance, which
gradually melted into one more pleasant and benign.
" Your name and purpose, signor?"
" Claude Dundas, a captain of the 62nd regiment, and
aide-de-camp to General Sir John Stuart, now serving in
the Calabrias."
"Stuart — Stuart!" he muttered, "the times are
indeed changed when—you say your name is Dundas ?
Which family are you of?"
Though surprised at this question from an Italian lord,
I satisfied him ; he smiled, and-said, "J know them."
" Illustrissimo, I have undergone great misery during
the past storm in the Gulf of Tarento, and in this con-
dition have been wrecked; I know not upon what part
of the Italian shores I have been thrown, but trust to be
received with that hospitality which I, as an officer of
Italy's ally, have a right to expect."
" Welcome, signor; but excuse my rising. I never
rise, but to equals. No Briton in' distress ever sought
succour from me in vain; yet little—little, truly, do these
heretical islanders deserve favour at my hands ! Ola,
Catanio !"
He rang a silver hand-bell, and an attendant, or old
priest, made his appearance, who exhibited the same
aspect of dismay that his master had done on beholding
me.
1 " With us, signor," said my host, " you are safe,
although Massena's soldiers swarm everywhere around us.
Here you can remain in disguise until we discover some
means of sending you to Calabria."
" You speak my very wishes—I', am deeply indebted
to you! Upon what part of the coast have I been
thrown?"
WHO IS HE?
309
" Near Canne, in Basilicata, a few iniles from the
frontier of Upper Calabria."
" I am, then, in rear of the French lines at Cassano!"
said I, aghast at the intelligence. He bowed.
" Follow Catanio; change your attire, and partake of
some refreshment—go ! afterwards I will speak with you."
He had all the air and tone of a man who through life
had been accustomed to wield authority.
"Basilicata!" I repeated inwardly, as we retired; it
seemed almost incredible that the water-logged wreck,
under a jury-foresail, even when aided by wind and tide,
could have run so far up the gulf since daybreak. Her
sailing must have averaged five knots an hour, since
we lost sight of the Capo della Colonna. Catanio, who by
his taciturnity and outward trim appeared to be a monk,
led me into an ante-room, where he furnished me with dry
apparel. I asked him numerous questions concerning
my host, but he seemed very unwilling to gratify my
curiosity.
" Signor Catanio," said I, while slipping on a pair of
black cotton breeches, " I presume he is a man of rank."
" In Italy, none is nobler ; the vicegerent of God ex-
oepted," he replied, energetically.
"You are an Abbruzzese, by your accent, I think?"
The old fellow smiled sourly, and took a great pinch of
snuff.
" I am an honest man," said he, handing his snuff-box
to me, and bundling my wet uniform, somewhat con-
temptuously, into a chest, which he locked.
" And my host," I continued, thrusting on a black serge
jacket, "he must be a churchman, as he is served by
priests ; how am I to address him?"
" Italians style him, ' his eminence;' but we, his faithful
domestics and followers, "
" Eminence!—is he Cardinal Buffo ? "
"Buffo, the apostate!" repeated the other, with such
intense scorn, that I was undeceived.
" He is a cardinal, at all events ; and I (unhappy pagan!)
have been styling him plain signor. Excuse my laughing;
but, faith! one feels so comfortable in these dry clothes,
after the misery of—but what is this ? I am not going to
a masquerade!"
"It is our master's pleasure that you attire yourself
310 ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
thus," said Catanio, handing me a cassock'and three-
flapped hat like his own; "it is your only safe dis-
guise."
" It is just like a snug dressing-gown, after all," said' I,
donning the garment.
"You are a perfect monk, signor !" said the old man,
smiling kindly; "but do not keep your head so erect;
that is an old habit. Ah ! there was a time—but here are
your beads—tie the girdle thus. Bravo! you are a very
monk."
" Snuff, grease, garlic, &c., excepted," I thought.
" I am happy to assist in saving a countryman from
those false Frenchmen."
" A countryman—what! are you a Scotchman ?"
" Born and bred, sir," said he, laying aside his
Italian, and, with an effort, recalling the strong northern
dialect of his boyhood. " I was called Duncan Cata-
nach; and, in happier days, dwelt near Lochaber, in
old Caledonia; which I would fain behold once more,
before I die."
The eyes of the old man glistened, and we shook hands
with all the brotherly warmth of heart with which Scot
greets Scot in a foreign land.
" I rejoice to meet in this place a subject of old
George III."
" I am no subject of his ! the petty princes —"
"Ha! some follower of Watt, who was beheaded for
treason—eh P "
" Ho ! " he replied, proudly and sternly ; " I follow no
traitor—nor do I participate in treason!" At that
moment, his master's bell rang loudly, and he hurriedly
withdrew.
the cardinal.
an
CHAPTER XLI.
the cardinal.
In a few minutes, lie led me back to tbe presence of my
host. A slight repast had been hastily laid for me in a
snug little library, the walls of which were adorned with a
few trophies of arms and portraits, some of them veiled
by crimson curtains ; but I was too much interested in
the cold fowls, the sparkling wine, and other viands dis-
played on the snowy table-cloth, to bestow a thought upon
anything else. On entering, I bowed profoundly to his
eminence, who occupied a large gilt chair, cushioned with
crimson velvet. Catanio seated himself at the table, to
help me.
" Make yourself quite at home, signor," said my host,
" and sup without ceremony ; being lashed to a wreck for
ten hours is enough to give any man an appetite; but
excuse my not bearing you company. I have already
supped, the hour is late, and I do not usually admit
strangers to my table. Catanio, be attentive to our
friend."
Catanach—or Catanio—filled my glass with glowing
sherry ; and long ere the speech of my ho3t was finished,
I had dissected the major part of an excellent fowl. My
eye fell upon my figure reflected in a mirror opposite, and
I could scarcely restrain my mirth: I was a 'perfect
canon, save that a head of curly brown hair supplied the
place of a shaven scalp.
" Truly, signor, you make an excellent friar," said the
cardinal, who seemed to know what was passing in my
mind; " and I doubt not, that were you to resign the
sword and belt for the cross and cord, you might rise in
our Catholic Church, as many of your countrymen from
Houay have done. You must be aware," he continued,
after a pause, " that while here, in rear of Massena and
Regnier's lines, you run considerable risk of discovery,
with the danger of suspicion as a spy. But the ruthless
marshal never disturbs my household ; and while with it
you are safe. He regards me with respect: although his
master's iron hand robbed me of the little that war, re-
hellion, and crime had left me ; the poor remnant of the
fairest patrimony in Europe."
312
ADVENTUEES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
" I am indebted to your eminence; it would be a deatb-
blow to my hopes to be taken prisoner just now, and
would quite play the devil with me!"
" A British frigate often comes up the gulf as far as
Canne."
" Ah! the Amphion"
" I will send you off to her by a boat: to pass the
French piquets at Cassano,' is too dangerous a mode of
escape. I wish to befriend you, signor, and would deplore
—ah! I love the scarlet coat; for X, too, have worn it in
my youth."
" A cardinal in a red coat! In our service, my
lord?"
"No," he replied, coldly, while his eyes sparkled and
his cheek flushed. " No; but when I commanded fifteen
thousand French infantry at Dunkirk, in the service of
my father, whose portrait is behind you."
From the incomprehensible speaker, I turned to the
portrait, which was that of a dark and oval-featured cava-
lier, in a long wig, which flowed over his steel breast-
plate and scarlet coat; his eyes possessed the same
keen and proud expression which I beheld in those of the
Italian.
" I presume, my lord, you have seen service ?"
" None worth mentioning," he replied; and, after
pausing a while, till Catanio had retired and the table was
cleared, he thus continued :—"And you are a Scotsman?
How I love to meet with one! Ah! capitano, the Scots
were a loyal people once ; but how changed since their
rampant Presbyterian priesthood have moulded the nation
to their purpose — the designing heretics ! Oh, cunning
cloduoles! I may live to mar you yet."
"You, eminenza?"
" I," lie replied, his eyes sparkling again.
"You have been in Scotland, I presume?" I asked,
with an air of pique.
"Never ; but the name of that country finds an echo in
my heart. Though born a Itoman, the ideas of your
people, their Lowland nobles, and the chiefs of the loyal
and illustrious clans, are all well known to me. Dear to
me, indeed, is every inch of the isle of Great Britain,—
though, truly, I owe little to the land which set a price on
the heads of my nearest and dearest relatives."
" Whom have I the honour of addressing ?"
THE CARDINAL.
313
"Your Icing!" lie replied, with a deep voice, which
caused me to start, as he rose erect from his chair, and his
tall and venerable figure seemed to dilate, and his faded
cheek to glow. " Your king, sir," he added, in pure
English; " one, at least, who should have been so, but the
hands of time and fate are now laid heavily upon him. I
am Henry the Second of Scotland and the Ninth of the
sister kingdom'—the cardinal duke of York,—now, alas !
known as the last of the house of Stuart. Eate—fate—■
yes, hardly hast thou dealt with me ! Expelled from
Home by Napoleon, robbed of my estates, and driven to
penury in my old age, I dwell here in forgotten obscurity,
subsisting on that poor pittance which is yearly doled out
by the government of Britain. Yet let me not be un-
grateful to George their king,—even that he might have
withheld from me. A time may come—God hath given,
and God can take away. You know me now, sir—let
your wonder cease."
As if exhausted by this outburst of his troubled spirit,
the venerable cardinal sank back in his chair, while I
arose from mine in a very unpleasant state of astonishment,
pleasure, and doubt: astonishment at the discovery, a
joyous pleasure at beholding the aged and illustrious pre-
late (even then the secret idol of many a heart which clung
to memories of the past), and doubt how to address him,
having heard that he exacted the title of " Majesty,"
which it was as much as my commission was worth to
yield him. But a spell was upon me. I had looked on
kings at the head of armies, surrounded by their staff and
courtiers, and, though banners were lowered, and cannon
thundered in salute, to me they were just as other men ;
but in the air and aspect of the aged Henry Stuart, even
in that humble apartment, and surrounded by no external
grandeur, save that with which the mind invested him—
with no insignia of royalty, save those with which inborn
grace and majesty arrayed him, there was a nameless
charm, a potent and mysterious influence, which quite be-
wildered me ; and all the romance, the misfortune, the
ten thousand stirring memories of the past,—so stirring,
at least, to every thorough Scotsman,—rushed upon my
mind like a torrent. It was a sensation of happiness, a
gush of chivalric sentiment and honest veneration, which
accompanied them. I bowed, with proper humility,
814 ADVENTURES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
before the old cardinal-duke, whose proud, dark eyes
Sparkled again as he extended his hands above my head,
and, (forgetting his imaginary majesty in the churchman,
bestowed on me a solemn Latin benediction.
" Wear this in memory of me." He threw around my
neck a riband, to which a gold medal was attached ; and,
when the tumult of my spirits passed away, and I raised
my head, he was gone. Catanio stood beside me.
" "Has he not the air of a king?" he asked, while a
bitter smile curled his thin lips, and lit up his sharp, grey
eye. " You are afraid to answer.- You are wearied, per-
haps. His majesty has retired for the night: allow me to
lead you to your apartment."
In the solitude of my chamber, I endeavoured to un-
ravel the chaos of thought that whirled through my brain.
The driving wreck, the drowning crew, and the terrors of
the midnight storm—the white salt foam, the roaring sea,
the cliffs up which I clambered—the villa, the cardinal-
duke blessing me—all passed before me in rapid review.
I drew forth,the riband and medal, to examine them: the
latter was of massive gold; it was one of those struck by
order of the cardinal, on the death of his brother, Prince
Charles, and distributed among his friends (who even then,
as his papers afterwards revealed, were both powerful and
numerous), in commemoration of his imaginary succession.
It bore his head in bold relief, with the motto, " Henricus
Honus, Anglise Hex." On the reverse was a cross, sup-
ported by Britannia and the Virgin; behind, rose a bridge
and cathedral, with the crown of Britain. George III.
became possessed of two of those singular medals, but,
perhaps, I was the first of his officers who received one
from the hand of York: I have preserved the gift, with
proper reverence, in memory of an interview which I shall
never forget.
Next morning, I was awakened by the familiar but un-
welcome sound of drums beating. Dressing in my strange
garb, and descending to the lawn, which lay around the
mansion, I walked forth to enjoy a ramble in solitude. I
looked on my shovel-hat, the serge sleeves and knotted
girdle of my strange attire. Three days ago, I was aide-
de-camp to the count of Maida, galloping along the line
on a garrison parade ; to-day, a monk, and a follower of
Henry Stuart, the cardinal-duke of York!
THE CARDINAL. 315
The beauty of the scenery and freshness of the morning
drew my steps towards Canne, which I beheld on the sear
shore, about two miles distant,—its white walls, church
spire, and casements, gleaming in the rising sun. The
sound of distant bells reminded me that it was Sunday.
The morning was cloudless, the sky blue, the earth green,
and glistening with dew; the wide Gulf of Tarento
sparkled with light as it vanished into dimness and misty
obscurity,—the horizontal line, where sea met sky, being
only marked by some sail glittering, like a snow-wreath
or white cloud, in the distance. The road was narrow, and,
being bordered by thick copsewood, was cool and shady.
I wandered on, until a turn unexpectedly brought me
Upon the parade of a regiment of French infantry, which
had just been inspected by Massena, and was being formed
into sections, preparatory to marching. My heart beat
quick : discovery was death, and I shrank from the lynx-
like gaze of the ferocious Massena, who, after a few words
with the colonel, galloped off, accompanied by his aide.
I began to breathe a little more freely. I recognized the
12th grenadiers, in their blue greatcoats and bear-skin
caps, and at their head my old friend De Bourmont, as
aunchy and merry as ever. An exchange of prisoners
ad taken place, and all that we had captured were once
more in arms against us. The band struck up, the arms
flashed, as they were sloped in the sun, and the battalion
moved off, en route for the frontiers of Calabria, where
Massena was concentrating his forces at the very time our
troops were about to abandon the country. How bravely
the sharp trumpet and the hoarse drums rang in the
wooded way, as they marched through the green defiles I
Whilst I listened, regardless of time and place, cassock
and cope, some peasant-women approached, that I might
bestow a benison on their children; they, however, re-
ceived only very vague and curious answers, as I pushed
past, and hurried back towards the good cardinal's villa,
from which I had been too long absent.
After I had breakfasted hastily in my own apartment,
Catanio informed me that, as his majesty was to celebrate
high mass at Canne, as a piece of etiquette, it would be
necessary for me to attend.
" Faith! I have entertained the natives enough for one
day," said I. Catanio frowned; and, being obliged to
"consent, a mule was brought me, and I set off with the
316 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
household of the cardinal. A lumbering, old-fashioned
coach bore his eminence from the villa, at a most solemn
pace,—its little Roman horses appearing dwarfed to the
size of ponies beside the ancient vehicle, on whose carved
and gilded panels shone the crown and arms of Britain.
The old. man considered himself in everything a king,—
and, doubtless, an excellent one he would have made, if
we judge by the goodness of his heart, and the fidelity of
his few and disinterested adherents.
That magic influence by which his family always gained
the unbounded loyalty and most romantic attachment of
their followers, he certainly possessed in no small degree:
there was a nobility of soul, a quiet stateliness of de-
meanour, and a pious resignation to his obscure fate, which
made his imaginary crown shine with greater lustre ; and
he passed through life more peacefully and happily, in
consequence of taking no active part in the great question
of hereditary right, which had embittered the days of his
father and brother. His years, his rank, his reputed
sanctity, and general amiability of character, procured him
the admiration and devotion of the Italians, who were
exasperated by the invasion of Rome, and the expulsion of
so many ecclesiastics of rank. The crowd surrounding the
orch of the church, uncovered, with reverence, as he
escended from the coach, and followed by his household,
—three old Scottish priests, an Irish valet, and myself,—
ascended the steps of the church. On these, crowded a
number of wretched mendicants,—a hideous mass of fes-
tering sores, ragged garments, black visages, and squalid
misery; they fell upon their knees, and, when Catanio
scattered some silver among them, there arose cries of—
" Viva eminenza! O, the gracious lord! the beneficent
father ! Viva Enrico Stuardo ! Viva la famiglia Stuardi!"
High mass, in its most impressive form, was celebrated
by the cardinal. The congregation consisted of the people
of Canne, a few ladies, fewer cavaliers, and a sprinkling
of the French garrison. Though the church was not
large, its ancient aisles and carved roof presented a noble
specimen of the old Italian Gothic, exhibiting those
striking extremes of light and shadow for which that style
is remarkable. The strong blaze of the noon-day sun
poured between the many mullions of its stained windows,
slanting on the picturesque crowd, who stood or knelt
around the columns—on the cavalier in his ample cloak,
THE CARDINAL.
317
the signora in her veil and mantle, the peasant in his
rough jacket, and the graceful country girl, with her
sparkling eyes and olive cheek, shaded by a modest muslin
panno. Six tall candles glimmered before the dark altar-
piece; while the altar itself, being covered with the
richest carving and gilding, shone like a blaze of glory
around the aged cardinal, who stood on the highest step.
The relics of several- saints and martyrs, of great re-
puted sanctity, stood upon it; and an old ragged mantle,
which hung from one of the columns, was said to be the
cloak of Madonna, and to have cured divers disorders, by
being wrapped round the sufferers.
My informant was a priest: while speaking, he glanced
at Bianca's diamond ring, which sparkled on my finger,
and the scrutinizing eye with which he regarded me,
brought the blood to my temples. I was also exposed to
the watchful glances of a French officer, in whom, to my
horror, I recognized General Compere, whom I had met
at Maida: some recollections of my face appeared to flash
across his mind, and he stared at me with cool determina-
tion. Uneasy at the chance, the danger, and disgrace of
discovery, I withdrew, by a side-door, into a little oratory,
which adjoined the body of the church.
" Beverend father," said a man, advancing with a bunch
of keys, " are you the Fra Sermonello, whom his eminence
has deputed to visit the chapel of the penitents ?"
" To be sure, fool! for what should I be here else?" I
answered, gruffly, forgetting my assumed character in the
annoyance I felt; but immediately adding, "of course,
myjson, I am come to .visit these unfortunate devils—
heretics, I mean."
" This way, then, Signor Canonico," said he, with an
air which showed he had no great veneration for my
sanctity.
318 adventures of an aide-de-camp.
CHAPTEE XLII.
the first penitent—the nun.
"A cursed scrape!" tliouglit I, whilst following him
through a little side-door of iron, which creaked on its
rusty hinges, as it rolled slowly hack, revealing a long
passage, dark and mysterious as any in the pages of
"Anne Eadcliffe," and interrupted by flights of steps,
where we required a lamp to aid us in descending. The
black walls were covered with glistening slime, and re-
fleeted the flashes of the lamp, which flickered and almost
expired, as it struggled with the noxious vapours floating
through these dismal vaults, and I became chilled with
cold as we descended. An iron grate or portcullis, which
barred our way, was raised up in a sliding groove by my
guide, who requested me to pass, and, saying he would
await me there, gave me his lamp.
Many tales of the holy office, and of the bigoted ferocity
of Italian monks, flashed on my remembrance. Perhaps
I was in a snare ! Doubtful whether to proceed, or knock
the fellow down and regain the church, even at the risk of
being discovered by General Compere, I stood for a
moment irresolute ; but I had no secret enemy there, and
the cardinal was a powerful friend.
" Father," said my guide, " you are a stranger here ?"
" I am in these vaults for the first time."
" They contain three penitents ; first, a nun, who broke
her'vows, and lies sneezing and coughing in the cell just
before you. Poor girl! she has been here three weeks,
and likes her quarters no better than the first hour she
saw them; maladetto! you may hear how she moans.
Opposite, lies the cell of a mad cavalier, who is chained
like a tiger—my lord bishop intends confining him here for
life; and next his cell is that of a monk, sent hither for
living too joyous a fife—gaming and drinking with gay
damsels, when he should have been snug in his dormi-
tory."
"I have a project," said I; "leave me the keys. On
my return, I wfil deposit them in the niche at the chapel
door."
" That was old Fra Grasso's way," replied the keeper
or warder, and, doffing his hat, withdrew.
THE EIEST PENITENT—THE NUN. 319
" Now, were there a thousand prisoners here, I should
set every one of them free!" I exclaimed, while hurrying
along the passage, lamp in hand, execrating the cruelty of
that tyrannical prelate, who confined three human beings
in a place which I could not contemplate without a shud-
der. The low, narrow passage was arched by rough stone
groins, springing from corbelled heads, hideous as those
of demons, that projected from walls, through the joints
of which the damp, reeking slime had been distilling for
ages ; innumerable stalactites hung long andjpendent, like
foul icicles ; enormous fungi flourished luxuriantly on the
sable masonry; large bloated toads croaked on the slip-
pery floors ; rats peeped forth from holes and corners,
and the whistling bat flitted to and fro on the cold vapours
of those dripping dungeons.
Before me lay the cell of the nun ; intending to visit her
first, I unlocked with great difficulty the oaken door, and
entered. Accustomed to the gloom, I could survey the
whole place at a glance; it was a dark, cold, and comfort-
less den, about sixteen feet square, and had a narrow, zig-
zag loop-hole opening high in the wall, which admitted
little air and less light. Crouching upon a bundle of
straw, in a corner of that detestable place, lay the poor
nun, wasted and worn, pale and ghastly. Her eyes were
raised to heaven; and though her lips moved not, she was
praying, but in that still voice which God alone can hear.
At the sound of my steps, she turned on me an apathetic
stare, and her sunken eyes sparkled wildly between the
long dishevelled masses of her raven hair, which wandered
over her bare bosom and shoulders. She was almost des-
titute of covering, having, I believe, no other garment than
a gown of black serge, which was torn in many places, re-
vealing her pure white skin, that gleamed like alabaster
through the gloom.
" Oh, pity, pity! for the gentle love of God !" she ex-
claimed; and added, with a shriek, " Ah! it is the bishop
—again—again !"
Shuddering, she hid her face in her long hair, and began
to weep as if her heart would burst. Approaching her, I
laid my hand kindly on her soft shoulder, and said—
" Poor woman! be comforted; you are not entirely for-
saken "
" Begone !" she exclaimed, spitting upon me ; " away,
priests of hell, who murdered my love—my husband!
y 2
320
ADVENTUKES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Away, lest I tear you with my teeth! Ha! ha! madness
is coming fast upon me ! Oh, joy, Jesu Christo! my brain
begins to wander."
" Signora "
" Preach on—of what ? religion—and in this dungeon!
—in which religion has consigned me to darkness, solitude,
and horror. Oh ! the soul-sinking misery X. have endured
these many, many weeks ! My husband—who murdered
him before my face?—A priest. Who would have dis-
honoured me ?—A priest! Ha, away to your tyrant
bishop ! I will commune with God, without the medium
of wretches such as thee!"
" Lady, I am no priest," I replied, deeply touched by
her misery and piercing voice. " I am a soldier—a gentil-
uomo in disguise. Trust me, and you may yet escape, to
be free and happy."
As I spoke, she rose from the floor, grasped my arm
with convulsive energy, and gazed upon my face with a
searching glance, as if she would read the inmost secrets
of my breast; she passed her hand across my head and
face, to assure herself my figure was not a vision; her
whole arm was thus revealed, and, though attenuated, its
purity was dazzling.
" Oh, signor ! dear and good signor! oh, if you should
deceive me!" she exclaimed, clinging to my hand, and
weeping bitterly. " O, if you should be but some emissary
from the accursed bishop! At times he comes, like an
evil genius, to offer me freedom. Ah ! canst thou guess
its price ? I will not go with thee—away! leave me !"
" Can there be greater misery than that which you now
endure ?"
"Ho, no ; there cannot! Who can live without hope?
yet all fled from me ! Oh, my Luigi! hadst thou been
living, I had not been forgotten, to perish thus ! My
sisters "
" Luigi!" I reiterated, while gently removing the dis-
bevelled masses of silky hair which veiled her features—a
cry burst from me! I beheld the belle of Palermo, the
nun of Crotona, the sister of Bianca, who had been so
cruelly carried off by the sbirri of this infamous Petronio
of Cosenza. "Francesca !" I exclaimed; " Francesca of
Alfieri, do you not remember me ?"
She regarded me fixedly, pressed her hands upon her
temples, and then shook her head mournfully.
THE FIEST PENITENT—THE NUN.
321
" I am Claude Dundas—the friend of Santugo, and be-
trothed of your sister Bianca." I threw my arm around
the poor bewildered girl, whom at that moment I loved
with all the tenderness of a brother.
" The friend of Luigi! O, tell me if he yet lives ? Tell
me, though the answer should destroy me at the instant!"
"He lives, signora; but you alone can restore him to
perfect happiness."
She raised her hands to heaven, and an exclamation of
pious and fervent thankfulness died away on her lips ; a
bright blush for a moment shone on her wan, but alas ! no
longer beautiful cheek, and had not my arm supported her,
she would have sunk on the pavement in a swoon. With-
out delaying a moment, I bore her away, and locking all
the doors after me, deposited the keys in my pocket, in-
stead of in the niche. The church was empty, and the
cardinal gone. Leaving my charge for a moment in the
recess of an old monument, I hurried to the porch; I
reeled giddily as the full glory of noon blazed on my
sight, so overpowering was the glare of light after the
obscurity of the vaults. Hailing a passing calesso,. I
desired the driver to draw up near the door ; on behold-
ing Trance sea, he scratched his unshaven chin, and ap-
peared in an unpleasant state of doubt; but on my slipping
a scudo into his hand, and desiring him to drive to the
cardinal's villa, all his scruples vanished, and we drove off.
Great was the astonishment of the good cardinal, when
I entered the lower saloon or drawing-room, leading the
squalid apparition of poor Trancesca, who was weakened by
long confinement, and overcome with awe on finding her-
self in the presence of so high a dignitary of the church.
She sank upon her knees, clasping my hand in hers, and
not once daring to raise her timid eyes to the face of
York, who had arisen on our entrance, and regarded us
with a stare of silent wonder.
" Captain Dundas 1" he exclaimed, in a tone which had
something of sternness in it; " what am I to understand
by this intrusion—and who is this woman ?"
Trancesca trembled violently; she would have spoken,
but the words died away in whispers on her pallid lips.
" My lord—your eminence, pardon me ! The case is
urgent, and my meeting with this lady so unexpected, that,
with your usual goodness, you will excuse my importunity,
while I relate as briefly as possible her unhappy story; it
322 ADVENTUEES OP AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
cannot fail to draw forth that gentle sympathy which no
member of your illustrious house ever refused to the un-
fortunate."
This was graciously received; the old cardinal was as
accessible to flattery as if he wore a crown; a pleasant
smile spread over his features, and resuming his throne-
like seat in the large gilt chair, he said, waving his hand,—
" Proceed, sir ; I trust I have fallen not away from the
ancient virtues of my ancestors. You know the old
homely saying,
' A king's face
Should give grace:'
and here at least we are a king, and our subjects shall not
sue in vain. Catanio, hand the lady a chair, and Captain
Dundas will please to proceed."
I endeavoured to raise Francesca; but altogether over-
come with a sense of her imaginary unworthiness, in a
presence so august, she remained kneeling in painful
humility, with downcast eyes and trembling limbs. I
pressed her hand, to reassure her; and, recalling all her
story, related it briefly, and in such a mode as I deemed
would be most pleasing to the ear of the aged duke, and
most likely to obtain his sympathy, which the unhappy
never claimed in vain.
"De Bivona and my lord bishop did right," he replied,
" in capturing this runaway; and the doom to which the
latter consigned her, is only such as the laws of the most
holy Catholic Church have from time immemorial directed
for broken vows."
Francesca trembled more violently, and my heart sank;
all hope seemed to die away, when the cardinal frowned
on our cause.
" O, may it please your eminence to bend a favourable
eye on this unhappy girl! You will confer a boon on the
descendant of a family which of old was never wanting in
loyalty to your house."
He remained buried in thought for a time.
" Captain Dundas," said he, " I will think over this
matter; the bishop may have stretched rather too far that
high authority with which the church invests her ser-
vants ; but this unfortunate sister must return to a con-
vent, and there remain, until her case has been duly con-
sidered. My order will assure her of the kindest treat-
THE FIBST PENITENT—THE NUN.
323
ment. Catanio!" lie rang Lis bell, and the factotum
appeared.
Although Francesca regarded with invincible repug-
nance a return to a convent, where she would be subjected
to the impertinent scrutiny of the sisterhood, and perhaps
that of a severe superior, yet it was a joyful relief from
the horrors she had endured ; I led her away, in tears,
and gave the cardinal those thanks which she was unable
to articulate. He wrote a brief note to the abbess, which
Catanio was to deliver. The calesso was at the door, and
we drove off at true Neapolitan speed to the Cistercian
convent at Canne.
We resigned Francesca to the superior, whom I was
glad to find was a short and stout old lady, with double
chin, two merry, twinkling eyes, and a visage which be-
tokened the utmost good-nature. The poor girl wept as
if her heart would burst, when we prepared to retire; but,
on my obtaining permission to visit her often, she became
more reconciled. I left the prison-like nunnery, feeling
happy that I could thus befriend Santugo by protecting
his Francesca, and restoring her to fight and fife: the
whole affair had quite the air of a romance. Dismissing
Catanio, I went to the shop of a locksmith, whom I desired
to make three keys like those of the vaults, which were
placed in his hand.
He bestowed an inquisitive glance at my curious monas-
tic garb; but, on my displaying a few ducats, readily took
an impression of the keys in wax; on receiving his pro-
mise that a new set should be in readiness next day, I
hurried off and restored the originals to the niche where I
had promised to deposit them.
I was overjoyed to find the venerable cardinal so much
interested in Francesca's favour, that he forthwith de-
spatched a courier to Home, praying for her dispensation,
which I then considered as certain, ms influence with Pope
Pius being so great, that a boon so trifling as loosening
the vows of a nun could not be .refused him. I knew not
how to express my thanks; he was conferring as great a
gift on me as on the visconte, and I contemplated with
joy the happiness our return would diffuse at the Villa
d'Alfieri, when I restored a bride to the arms of Luigi;
while, in return, he but let me not anticipate that, for
fear of a disappointment.
324 adventuees of an aide-de-camp.
CHAPTEK XLIII.
a chance of escape lost.
A week slipped away; I visited Francesca every
morning, and saw, with pleasure, the bloom returning to
her faded cheek, and the lustre to her sunken eye; yet I
spoke not of the dispensation, while there was the least
chance of a miscarriage; knowing that she was too weak
to stand many alternate shocks of grief and joy.
Notwithstanding the gracious manner and winning
kindness and hospitality of the cardinal—who appeared to
possess that charm hereditary in his family, by which he
gained the hearts of all who knew him—I was impatient
to deliver at Crotona the despatches with which I was in-
trusted; to fling aside the slovenly cassock, and don, once
more, my smart uniform. I grew heartily tired of the
disguise, when its novelty passed away; and bestowed
many a most unpriestly malison on its ample skirt, when
it impeded me in walking.
One evening, Catanio came to me in a hurry, saying
" his majesty wished to see me without a moment's
delay;" he was most scrupulously exact in styling him
thus.
I found the cardinal seated on a lofty terrace, where he
usually passed the evening, enjoying the beauty of the
prospect and coolness of the air.
" Sir," said he, " a path is just opened for your escape,
and you have an opportunity which may never occur
again. The British ship I mentioned to you is again off
the coast, and a boatman will take you on board after
dusk. There are no French gun-boats in the gulf, there-
fore you can escape in perfect safety."
"While he spoke, a frigate hove in sight: she was
clearing a point of land, over which her topsails were
glittering in the light of the setting sun, which was then
gilding the glassy waters of the gulf, and reddening, with
its last rays, the surrounding shore. It was the Amphion;
her bellying canvas shone white as snow, as she rounded
the promontory, and the evening wind unrolled the bright
scarlet standard at her mizen peak ; that standard which
a Briton never hails with such joyous pride as when it
waves in the breeze of a foreign clime. Gracefully the
A CHANCE OF ESCAPE LOST.
325
beautiful frigate came on, with, the white foam curling
under her bows and rolling past her swelling sides, from
which thirty-six pieces of cannon protruded through the
port-holes; and we could discern the long flush line of
her gun-deck crowded with men.
A smart American ship, which had probably been
blown up the gulf by the late storm, passed at a short
distance on the opposite tack, showing her stripes and
stars. Scarcely had she cleared the Amphions quarter,
when a puff of white smoke curled from it, and a gun-
shot whistled across her fore-foot, skimming the water
beyond. The Americans immediately took this rough
hint, and lowered their topsails to our flag—a good old
custom of ocean homage, which of late years has been
disused.
" For what reason has the frigate fired on the poor mer-
chantman?" asked the cardinal.
I acquainted him with the ancient etiquette, by which
Britain compelled the flags of foreign nations to do
homage on her wide watery dominions; and a smile of
gratified pride lighted up the glistening eyes of the
listener.
The frigate would be close off Canne, when she crossed
the gulf on the other tack ; and the cardinal observed that
Catanio would have a boat waiting on the beach after
dusk. It was a tempting offer, and a most tantalizing
sight to behold within musket-shot a British ship, for
whose commander I had important despatches: but to
abandon poor Francesca, when I was so anxious to convey
her to a place of safety, and to present her in person to
Luigi, was a project I could not relinquish. The cardinal
read the expression of doubt which my face betrayed.
" Do you not wish to return to your friends and your
duty?" he asked.
" Anxiously," I replied ; "but not without the Signora
d'Alfieri, whose dispensation you so graciously requested.
Permit me to reside here a few days longer—at least, until
it arrives—that I may convey this desolate girl to the
arms of the only friends whom war and time have left her.
You will thus confer another boon, which I shall long re-
member, though I never can repay."
"As you please, Captain Dundas. I shall be very ha|)py
if you reside with me so long as your duty and inclination
will permit you. Happy, indeed ! Seldom it is now that
.326 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
an English, tongue is heard among my diminished house-
hold; save when some Scottish priest from Douay, or some
Highland gentleman, whom English interest and the
change of manners have left uncorrupted, comes here to
pay homage to the last of the Stuarts. Yet their presence
brings more sorrow than pleasure ; it raises up those airy
visions which shipwrecked the happiness of my chivalric
brother, and beseem me not to think upon now, in my
helpless obscurity and very old age; creating a useless
longing to behold that isle of which I have heard and
thought so much, and which I fain would look upon
before my eyes close in their last slumber, and I am laid
in the tomb of my father at Erescati."
Thus the good cardinal continued for hours : there was
a something in his tone and manner which touched me
deeply. Could I listen to his words without sympathizing
with fallen greatness, in the person of the last repre-
sentative of our long line of kings ?
The sun went down, crimsoning land and sea with a
warm glow, as it sank behind the bills; the ocean changed
from bright yellow to deep blue, the stars were shining in
heaven, and the AmpTiion had diminished to a speck on
the distant waters of Tarentum, before the cardinal ended
his reminiscences and disjointed self-communings, and
leaning on my arm, retired to his apartment. The
frigate appeared no more; but after that evening I
became doubly anxious to be gone, and waited with intense
impatience the return of the courier, bringing from Rome
the decree which would free Erancesca, or seal her doom
for ever.
Remembering the false keys made for me at Canne, I
resolved, in my assumed character, to visit the cells of the
penitents, and discover those who were worthy of liberty,
and those who deserved to remain in durance vile. One
dusky evening, I departed on this mission, with my du-
plicate keys and a dark lantern, and having my shovel-hat
flapped over my face, to avoid observation. The night
soon became dark ; not a star was visible, and the wind
howled through the battlements of the ancient church,
and moaned in its hollow aisles. Had I been timid or
superstitious, here was enough, in the horrible aspect of
these vaulted chambers, to deter me from advancing ; but
in them day and night were almost alike.
I first opened the cell of the cavalier mentioned by the
A CHANCE OF ESCAPE LOST.
327
guide, and on entering, awakened the occupant from a
dreamy sleep—a man, although his features were hollowed
by long confinement, want, and care; though his eyes
were wild and his beard grizzled—the expression of whose
face was as prepossessing and noble as his figure was com-
manding. He was tall and strong in person, but heavily
fettered ; and his garments were rags, which fluttered in
the breeze that swept through his prison; he trembled
with cold and debility. Poor man! a captivity of three
long years had not inured him to the misery of the den to
which the tyranny of a powerful persecutor had consigned
him; his manacles clanked as he rose from the damp
pavement, and a stern and scornful frown gathered on his
haughty brow when he beheld me.
" Reverend signor," said he, waving his fettered hand,
"you may spare me your usual exhortations, and begone;
yet think not that I am so hardened as to scorn a Christian
churchman. God forbid you should suppose so ! but I
have nothing to confess, save my abhorrence of these
bonds and the foul tyranny which immures me here, in a
living grave, from light and happiness ; subjecting me to
misery, under which, had not my own indomitable spirit
supported me, reason must have given way. Leave me—
begone!"
" Signor cavalier, speak less angrily; I am not what
you take me for, but a friend, who comes to set you free.
Remember, signor, that the British are the friends of
Calabria, which our victorious army has already freed
from the yoke of Prance."
" What is this you tell me?" he exclaimed. " British
troops in Calabria! And what am I reserved to hear ?
Naples has again become a province of Prance ! yet not a
voice has whispered it to me in this living tomb, where I
have been kept in ignorance of all those great events that
have shaken my country. Prom Prance—again from the
grasp of Prance ? " said you.
" From the brother of Napoleon, whose soldiers we
have driven from the rocks of Scylla to the hills of
Cassano ; hoisting the banner of Ferdinand on the towns
and castles of the provinces, and gaining one most signal
victory in a battle on the plains of Maida."
" I am thunderstruck! And all this has passed in three
years?"
" In as many months."
328
adventtjees of an aide-de-camp.
"0 joy! And you have come to set me free, most
reverend father ?"
" Yes,—but address me not thus ; I am a British officer
in disguise, and placed in a most peculiar position," I
replied; quite forgetting the part I intended to act, in my
sympathy for this unfortunate, whose frank and graceful
bearing gained my entire good-will. " This bishop of
Cosenza," I observed, " seems a tyrant, of whose cruelty
and injustice I have heard innumerable instances."
" A tyrant, said you ? Call him monster, fiend, or what
you will; the flaming depths of hell contain not a darker
spirit, a more designing devil! You offer me life ; yet
what is fife to me now, when every flower that adorned
my path in youth has been crushed and blighted, and
every beam of joy extinguished, till gloom, horror, and
revenge have settled like a shadow on my soul? O,
signor! words cannot depict the bodily and spiritual
agony I have endured. Ere we go, hear me, but a
moment! My story is short, but bitter. Hear it, and
pity me!"
I am the Cavaliere Paolo, of Casteluccio, one of the
fairest patrimonies in Naples. No young man entered
life with brighter prospects than mine, when, at the age
of twenty, I found myself master of a handsome fortune
and the love of Laura Molina, my fair cousin. I had been
betrothed to her in infancy by my father, who, as her
guardian, wished to keep her ducats in the family. When
at college, the idea of being compelled to marry my little
cousin was a source of continual vexation to me, and from
1 '' 1 ^11 in love with every
something terrible, and I saw with dismay the arrival of
my twentieth birthday ; when, throwing aside gown and
tocque, and after spending a year amid the gaieties of
Elorence and Naples, I should have to demand my bride
at the convent where she boarded.
" Per Baccho !" thought I ; "if this repugnance is
mutual, what a happy couple we shall be!"
CHAPTER XLIV.
the second penitent—the cavaliee.
commencement of
THE SECOND PENITENT—THE CAVALIEK. 329
On reaching the convent of St. Sabina, I found the
inmates were hearing mass performed by Father Petronio,
the great ecclesiastical orator of Cosenza. I entered the
chapel in no pleasant mood, conning over the compliments
which courtesy required should be paid to Laura, who I
had been informed was the prettiest girl in a convent
which was famous for its fashionable beauties.
" Ah! if Laura is like thee, young girl, what a happy
rogue wilt thou be, Signor Paolo," thought I, as the veil
of a young lady (who occupied a stool near a column
against which I leaned) was blown aside, revealing to me
a face of such mild and perfect beauty, that I became
quite bewitched, and wished my unlucky cousin in the
crater of Etna. Her complexion was extremely fair ; her
eyes blue and tender, and a quantity of light-brown hair
fell curling around a face which had all that softness and
bloom of feature one might imagine in a seraph. Enough!
for the time, she banished all thoughts of Laura.
At last, Father Petronio made an end of his discourse,
of which I had not heard a syllable. The people dis-
persed, and in the crowd of nuns, novices, and boarders,
I lost sight of my fair unknown. I turned away with a
sigh to visit this provoking cousin, whom I was bound, by
my father's will, to espouse, or my ducats would every one
be forfeited to the altar of Madonna.
I sent in my card to the abbess, and presented myself
at the grate. The Signora Molina was called, and imagine
my joy on discovering my betrothed to be the same fair
girl whose beauty had impressed me so favourably at
church. I conversed with her for an hour, kissed her hand
respectfully, and withdrew, thinking myself a most for-
tunate fellow in being compelled to espouse so handsome
a girl, whose fortune was almost equal to my own.
Petronio was the confessor at the convent, and officiated
in the same capacity to all the beauties of Cosenza; the
ladies would confess their peccadilloes to none other than
this celebrated churchman, whose learning, talent, and
supposed sanctity, made him the pride of the province:
but he was a subtle fiend at heart, as my story will show.
He was the confessor of Laura, and to him she confided
all her little secrets, until for some cause she dismissed
him, and preferred an aged and decrepit Basilian. I
remonstrated, but she said there were reasons; adding,
330 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
with a sweet smile, that I must he her humble servant
then, if I would have her obey me by-and-by.
I allowed her to please herself, and passed the time in
alternately visiting the convent and my villa, which I was
fitting up suitably for the reception of such a bride. The
more we saw and knew of each other, the stronger our
mutual love became; and often, hand in hand, have we
blessed my good and provident father who betrothed us in
our childhood.
One night, when returning from a cafe, where I had
spent some hours joyously with my friend Captain Valerio,
and a few of his brother officers, old fellow-students, all
choice spirits and roisterers, with whom I had a farewell
supper, I had a singular encounter.
It was a lovely Italian night; the brilliancy of the pale
moon eclipsed the fight of the stars, which disappeared as
she rose in her silver glory above the Apennines, and
poured her lustre on Cosenza's seven hills—on its steep
and lofty streets, and on the round towers of its hoary
castello, where Alaric the Goth gave up his soul to God—
whilst their giant shadows fell, frowning and dark, on the
shining waters of the Bussiento and the Cratis. Midnight
tolled from the steeple of Sabina, and the most profound
repose pervaded the moonlit city.' I gazed on the towering
hills, on the wild and ample forest—which in the days of
the Brutti extended to the promontory of Bhegium, but
is now shrunk to the wood of La Syla—where the wood-
cutter and carbonari have replaced the nymphs and satyrs
of the ancients; I looked towards the distant sea sparkling
in the moonlight, as its waves rolled round the Campo di
Mare, and everything slept in silence, beauty, and repose:
I was disposed for meditation and reverie—I thought of
Laura, and my heart beat happily-
" In three days," thought l, " I shall be married "
" To Laura Molina," said a voice near me.
I started: some one had spoken, but not to me. I was
near the portal of St. Sabina, and looked inquiringly at
the stone figure of Bruno of Cologne — could it have
addressed me ? No one appeared; I paused and listened.
" And this girl is beautiful, say you ?" asked a voice.
" Lancelloti, thou canst not conceive such loveliness."
" I would compliment your taste, signor, could I but
find you," I muttered, grasping my poniard.
THE SECOND PENITENT—THE CAVALIEK. 331
" Again I say, Lancelloti—;—"
" Sword of Omar! yon forget; my name is Osman
Carora," replied the second speaker. " I am a respectable
Mahomedan. Corpo di Baccho ! I swear by turban and
beard,—yea, by Mahomet! "
" Silence, fool! and hear me whisper."
" Either Petronio spoke just now, or Satan himself!"
thought I, looking cautiously about me; having a laudable
curiosity to discover those good people who took such an
interest in my affairs. I retired within the deep portal at
the moment that two men stood before it in the full blaze
of the moonlight, and I could distinctly hear all that
passed. One was a short, squat, villanous-looking fellow,
whose red vest, yellow trousers, turban, brass pistols, and
sabre, declared him to be an Italian renegade, acting under
the Algerine flag in the double capacity of pirate and
smuggler. The other was the immaculate Petronio,
whose breast was the repository of half the female secrets
in the city—Petronio, the paragon of Cosenza,—the man
of holiness, and of God!
" I tell you again and again, Lancelloti, Carora, or
whatever you call yourself," he exclaimed, in a hoarse
whisper, " that I love this girl fondly; yea, madly ; and
shall I behold her given up to this chit-face cavalier, and
without a struggle ?"
" Of course not," replied the other, stroking his beard,
while his imperturbable gravity formed a strong contrast
to the whirlwind of passion which racked the bosom of
the monk.
" For two years I was her confessor. O ! the rapture
I have felt in her presence. The exceeding beauty of that
young girl has cast a spell upon me; I am no longer
myself, the cold-hearted and calm-visaged monk, but a
jealous and amorous lover. Curse on this robe! which
excites only awe and gloom in the hearts of the young
and beautiful. When, at confession, she knelt before me,
was it not rapture to obtain those glimpses of her soft and
snowy bosom ?"
" Ay, truly, it was," responded he of the turban and
slippers impatiently.
" To look on those bright blue eyes, and the stray
f olden curls that shaded the dimpled cheek, to feel those
eautiful hands clasped on my knee in prayer, though I
332
ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
dared not touch them. Never before did such a fairy
being cross the path of a priest, to wean him from his
God, and destroy his peace for ever."
"No, indeed, no ; Sacramento! come to anchor, will
you ? The moon is on the wane; La Syla is growing
dark, the land-breeze is coming, and the Crescent lies
close to, under the Campo di Mare, with jib and foresail
loose ; I must sail by daybreak, if I would keep clear of
the British fleet, which my prince of crookbacks, Gaspare
Truifl, says stood down the Straits of Messina last
evening."
" Bight before the wind, with studding-sails and
royals," said a hideous hunchback, whom I had not before
observed, " and if this breeze continues "
" Peace, imp of darkness ! and sheer off," said the
pirate, grasping a pistol.
The hunchback growled, and withdrew.
" Pry thee, make an end, Petronio, and say for what
purpose you have brought my handsome shipmate and me
hither. A priest in love is bah! in time you will tire
of this baby-faced girl."
" Tire!" exclaimed the priest—
" O, no!
I ne'er shall tire of the unwearying flame.
But I am weary, kind and cruel dame,
With tears that uselessly and ceaseless flow.
Scorning myself, and scorned by you, I long
For death ! "
"Pshaw! you are mad," cried the pirate, with angry
impatience ; " quoting the sonnets of Petrarch like a day-
dreaming student, when you should act like a man of
mettle. Here I am, at your service, mine ancient friend
and gossip,—Fra Lancelloti once, now Osman Carora, of
the brave xebecque Crescent, in the service of his sublime
puissance the bey of Tripoli. Thou seest that, while at
the summit of my oriental dignity, I have not forgotten
thee ; but speak to the purpose. That d d British
fleet—quick—thy project "
" Is—but come this way." They moved forward ; I
paused for a moment, rooted to the spot by astonishment;
and when I darted from the shadow of the porch, lo! they
were gone ; nor priest nor pirate could I see, though the
bright moonlight still shone in full splendour on the tall
windows and marble columns of St. Sabina. The project
THE SECOND PENITENT—THE CAVALIEE. 333
—the very essence of tlie matter—I had not yet learned.
O, diavolo ! On every side I searched, hut saw them no
more ; and, with a heart full of anger and apprehension,
I returned to my temporary residence in the city.
" And this is the sainted Petronio," I exclaimed; " in
love with my Laura, and leaguing with pirates to rob me
of her—curse on his presumptuous soul! The podesta
shall hear of what this night has revealed, and he shall
drag forth to justice this wolf in sheep's clothing." But
recollecting that my single assertion could not pull down
the mighty fabric of Petronio's fame, I resolved to be
calm, and watch narrowly : three days more would see
Laura in my arms, when I might laugh at the friar, his
passion, and his projects.
Pool that I was, to be outwitted by a villanous monk
after such a warning! Laura's dismissal of her sanctified
confessor was sufficiently accounted for : a dubious glance
or word had, doubtless, offended her delicate sensibility,
and his visits had been dispensed with for ever.
A thousand lights burned in the villa of Casteluccio,
tinting with a ruddy glow the sea and the rocks of Campo
di Mare, around which the waves rolled, sparkling like
diamonds. Hangings of satin fringed with gold ; festoons
of fragrant flowers, gilded statues, and vases of alabaster;
ceilings of fresco, columns of marble, floors of mosaic, and
pyramids of party-coloured lamps, had turned my villa into
a fairy palace. Every hall and chamber was gleaming
with light, and crowded with beauty and gaiety; while the
band of the Italian Guards played divinely in the saloon.
The soft music floated along the echoing roofs, and all
were joyous and happy. It was our marriage night. The
fete was superb : six weeks before, the invitations had been
issued, and all of any note in the province were invited.
The fountains flowed with wine ; and the pillared hall was
crowded with dancers, who whirled in the airy waltz, or
threaded the graceful quadrille. Nor did less joy reign
without, where, on the green lawn, lighted less by the
summer moon than by the countless variegated lamps
which covered the walls of the villa and the trees around
it, the young jpaesani danced the gay tarantella to the
tabor and guitar.
I was waltzing with the duchess of Bagnara, one of the
most famed of our Neapolitan beauties; but I saw only
my Laura, who, attired in her white bridal robe, shone
z
334 ADVENTURES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
among our loveliest women like a planet amongst the
stars. How shall I describe her ? Oh, for the power of
Petrarch, and the same glowing words with which he
described the Laura of Avignon! Not less beautiful was
mine, as she shone in all her blushing loveliness; her
bright hair waving around her, and her blue eyes spark-
ling with happiness and love. The duchess, a stately
woman, with diamonds gleaming among her raven locks,
was managing her train with inimitable grace, and rally-
ing me severely on my want of gallantry, and inattention to
her, when the report of a pistol was heard, and shrieks of
women followed. The dance stopped, the ladies turned
pale, eyes met in wonder, the music died away, and all
listened in surprise, which soon gave place to terror.
Headed by a tall and powerful ruffian, in whom, not-
withstanding his eastern garb, I recognized Father Pe-
tronio, a band of armed Algerines rushed among the
dancers with pistol, pike, and scimitar. Defenceless as
I was, I sprang to the side of Laura; my brave friend, the
young Santugo, interposed with his drawn sword; but he
was struck to the earth by Petronio's pistol, the ball of
which wounded the fair duchess, who stood near him.
" Miscreant monk !" I exclaimed; but was beaten down,
senseless: the last I remember was, beholding Laura strug-
gling in the arms of the piratical priest.
"When I returned to this world of misery, I found
myself many leagues away at sea, chained to the deck of
the renegade's ship, the Crescent, which stood towards
the African coast; and, favoured by the land-breeze, was
then leaving the Sicilian shores behind. Through an open
port, I saw the last headland fading in the distance. The
deck was strewn with the plunder of my villa; but I
thanked heaven that my friends had been left, and that
I alone had been carriea into slavery. Laura!—had she
escaped, or was she too in the hands of barbarians—a
slave, exposed to every indignity and horror ? I trembled
—my heart sickened; I gnashed my teeth, and sank
upon the deck in a stupor, caused by rage and disappoint-
ment, mingled with love and fear for Laura.
From tins state I was roused, by being dragged along
the deck by the villanous Carora, who flung me, while
heavily ironed and unable to resist, down the companion-
ladder with such force, that I lay stunned and motionless.
Gh, misery of miseries!—in the cabin of the pirate was
THE SECOND PENITENT—THE CAVAIIER. 335
Laura Molina—tlie girl whom but yesterday I had so
joyously and solemnly espoused at the altar of St. Sabina
—whom I had sworn to lore for ever,—struggling in the
strong grasp of Pet»onio.
She yet wore her bridal dress; but her bloom, her
jewels, and wreath were gone. A stranger could not have
recognized the blushing bride of yesterday, in the pale but
beautiful phantom of to-day! I would have rushed to
embrace her, but Carora held my fetters.
" Paolo!—my husband!—save me! save me!" she cried,
wildly, stretching her arms towards me.
" Laura, to God alone "
" Peace!" exclaimed Petronio, grasping a pistol. " Laura
Molina, accept of my love, or I will blow the brains of
your cavalier against the bulkhead!"
"Thy love!—O, horror!" she raised her eyes to
heaven.
" "Woman! I am not in a humour for trifling. On the
wide ocean, far from aid, you are completely in my power,
and must address your supplications to me; for, I tell you,
not even heaven above, nor hell below the waters, can
save you from me now! Decide—your Paolo, or me ? A
word may save him, or a word destroy !"
Levelling a pistol, he seemed more like a fiend than
a human being: passion rendered his accents hoarse,
and his visage black; his bulky frame seemed to dilate,
and his breast to pant, while his eyes glared beneath their
shaggy brows; and the knotted locks that fringed his
shaven scalp twisted like the vipers of Lugano. His right
hand was on the pistol-lock—his left grasped the shrink-
ing form of Laura.
" Signora!" he exclaimed, in a fierce, fond whisper,
" think of the bright fortune I can offer thee in the sunny
land of the Algerine !"
" Holy Madonna, instruct me what to do in this hour
of agony!" prayed the unhappy girl, whose excessive
misery would have melted any heart, save that of the
apostate. " O, my Paolo—thou,—every hair of whose
head is more dear to me than my own life, what can I say
to save thee ? "
" Loved one! bid death welcome, and defy fear; but
forget not that you are the wedded wife of a Neapolitan
cavalier!"
" Farewell, dearest, Laura will soon follow thee."
z 2
336
ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
" Thou wilt have, me, then ? " exclaimed Petronio, with
fierce triumph.
"Never!" replied Laura, faintly, as she swooned and
sank senseless in his arms.
" Then away to Satan, thou! " cried the priest, as he
fired at my head; but at that moment the pirate Lancel-
loti (or Carora), renegade and ruffian as he was — touched
by one of those qualms of conscience which at times
trouble even the most hardened villains, or perhaps, moved
to pity by the exceeding beauty and agony of Laura—
struck up the weapon, and the ball passed through the
deck above. The priest turned furiously upon his partner
in crime; but the distant report of a cannon, and the cry
of " a sail on the weather beam," diverted their mutual
anger for the time.
Confused by the explosion of the pistol, I was dragged
back to the ring-bolt on deck, where I remained, help-
lessly, during all the horrors of the battle which ensued.
Laura—it was the last I beheld of her—the last! O, Ma-
donna mia! and Thou, whose power enabled me to survive
such an accumulation of woe, teach me how, at this dis-
tance of time, to look upon the events of that day with
resignation and calmness !
The corsair had fallen in with a Maltese corvette ot
twenty guns, bearing a knight-commander's pennon at
the foremast head. She proved to be the Gierusalemme,
commanded by the brave Calabrian, Marco of Castelermo;
and an engagement being unavoidable, the corsair, which
had an equal number of guns, prepared for action. Five
hundred of the greatest villains under the sun stood to
quarters: the ports were hauled up, the guns double-
shotted, the tackles laid across the deck, while round-shot,
wadding, grape, and canister lay between them in profu-
sion. The crimson flag of Algeria was displayed from the
mizen peak. The renegade seemed in his glory, and swag-
gered about with scimitar and speaking-trumpet; while
the once meek and holy Petronio, with a cutlass and prim-
ing-box buckled to his waist, officiated as captain of a gun;
and Truffi, the hunchback, crawled like a gigantic toad
about the deck, bearing an immense basket filled with
shot-plugs and oakum.
Thus prepared, the Algerines awaited the attack of the
corvette, for whose success I prayed with the holiest
fervour.
THE SECOND PENITENT—THE CAVALIER. 337
On came the Gierusalemme, the water flashing under
her bows, and her taut canvas shining like snow in the
noonday sun : both vessels as they neared shortened sail.
The first cannon-ball passed close to my ear; and, stupified
by its wind, I grovelled on the deck in despair. The cor-
sair, after failing to weather her adversary, steered under
her lee.
"Base infidels, surrender or sink!" cried a voice from
the corvette, as we crossed on opposite tacks.
" To the tyrant knights of Malta!" bellowed Lancelloti,
through his trumpet; " to become their slaves ! Bah !
Never, while the great deep can hide us, and we can
throw a match in the magazine!" After a good deal of
skilful manoeuvring, the action commenced in stern
earnest.
The pirates fought like demons; for slavery or death
was their fate if vanquished: but the Christians opposed
them with coolness and bravery. The heavy metal of the
latter battered to wreck and ruin the bulwarks of the
former,—dismantling their guns, and heaping the deck
with dead, whom they were soon compelled to throw
overboard to clear the way. The enormous fifty-pound
balls of the corvette's forecastle-piece, created a devasta-
tion, to behold which made my heart leap with joy. The
corsair was evidently getting the worst of the battle; her
deck was torn up and ploughed in a thousand places, and
the white splinters flew around in incessant showers : her
sails were blown to rags, her standing and running rigging
hung all in bights and loops, useless and disordered; while
the blessed banner, the taper masts, and taut cordage of
the Gierusalemme towered above the dense smoke in as
perfect order as when the engagement began.
During this yard-arm contest, my situation was horrible.
I was ironed helplessly to the deck, amid all its fury, and
was, consequently, unable to fight or fly, to save Laura or
myself. Ah! how I trembled, lest the missiles of the
Maltese might penetrate the place of her confinement.
Incessantly they were crashing around me, tearing up the
strong planks, dashing boats and booms to fragments, and
scattering brains and blood on every side. The slippery
deck was flooded with the red current, which gushed from
the lee-scuppers. I was suffocating beneath the corpses
which fell continually above me, and shrieked and strug-
gled under the ghastly load; but the ring-bolts were im-
338 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
moveable, and my cries were unheeded amid that frightful'
din. On all sides rang the curses, threats, and cheers of
the living, the groans of the dying, the clanking of blocks
and handspikes, the rattle of chains, and stamping of feet,
mingled with the creaking and jarring of the guns as they
were worked on deck, hauled back by their tackles, loaded
and urged again to port, and then burst the deafening
roar; while the small-arms from forecastle, poop, and tops,
made up a medley of horrors! Riddled below and wrecked
aloft, the corsair lay like a log on the water, and the fire of
her guns died away.
La Gierusalemme forged ahead and lay across her bows,
which the Maltese grappled fast, and the brave cavalier
who commanded leaped upon her bowsprit at the head of
his boarders. A yell burst from the pirates as the red
flag of death floated from the Gierusalemme, whose guns,
crammed to the muzzle with round shot and grape, were
once more poured into her; the tremendous fury of the
broadside, sweeping through from stem to stern, killed
one-half of her fighting men, and struck consternation to
the souls of the rest.
The moment of deliverance was at hand. On came the
boarders like a torrent, when a cry of "fire!" arrested
the faculties of all, and Petronio, the demon-monk, leaped
up the hatchway with a flaming match; he had fired the
ship.
" Throw her off—cut the grapplings—man the main-deck
guns—fill the fore-yard ! Bravissimo, St. John for Malta!"
cried Castelermo, as his boarders scrambled back to the
corvette, and their foes fought like fiends at the grap-
nels, that all might perish together. But the Maltese
passed from their reach, backed their mainyard, and once
more their broadside belched forth destruction on the
sinking Crescent. Three hours had the combat lasted -r
the setting sun was now gilding the Tunisian hills and the
isle of Giamour.
The corsair was soon enveloped in a cloud of murky
vapour, which rolled away to leeward, and Lancelloti,
after throwing all his wounded overboard, prepared to
abandon the wreck. Concealed by the smoke, the crew
crowded into their remaining boats and fled.
O, signor, imagine my situation then! Laura—if she
yet lived—and myself, were alone in the corsair, which
reeled every instant as the heavy shot of the corvette
THE SECOND PENITENT—THE CAVALIER. 339
pierced her. I heard a shriek from the cabin: another, it died
away; O, frightful! The corsair was now a mass of flame.
I might have saved Laura had I been free, but ironed
hand and foot to the accursed deck—a victim, helpless as
herself—I could only rave and pray, until exhausted by
the terrible emotions which rung my soul, and half-stifled
by the heat and smoke, I lay motionless in a state of stupe-
faction and misery.
As from an ocean hell, the hot flames burst through
every hatch and port; all became red around me—my
heart panted, my eyes were bursting in their sockets. I
saw the masts and yards blazing and rocking above me; I
heard the " vivas" of the Maltese, and the report of the
corsair's guns exploding, as they successively became
heated by the roaring and scorching flame.
" Now—I am gone—I am dying—God receive me !"
The deck yielded beneath, and I expected to sink to the
bottom of the flaming hold; but my fate was changed.
At that moment the magazine blew up—a whirlwind of
sparks burst on every side, the crackling deck parted be-
neath me, and I found myself struggling in the ocean; the
coarsair sank, hissing and roaring, and nearly drawing
into her vortex the planks to which I was chained. The
bitter briny water rushed in at every pore, and I became
insensible.
On recovering, I found myself upon the deck of the
corvette, from whose commander I received every kind-
ness and attention that the brave can yield to the unfortu-
nate; but I was filled with an agony of horror when I
reflected on the past, and the fate of Laura Molina.
Time softened those pangs, and remembering that she
was with the angels in heaven, and happier than she could
ever have been on earth, I became contented; but
vowed never to love another!—a solemn pledge of love
and piety, which I have most religiously preserved. To be
brief—I served with the Cavalier di Castelermo during the
remainder of his cruise against the Algerines, with whom
we had many encounters ; and the desire of avenging my
wrongs endued me with the valour of a lion.
After the blockade of Valetta, when all hope of restoring
the order of St. John to its pristine splendour had failed,
Castelermo and I set out for Italy, to join the grand-master
at Genoa. During the voyage the vessel anchored off the
Campo di Mare, and I was seized with a longing to behold
340 ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
my native city, and visit once more those places which the
associations of childhood and love have rendered so dear
to me.
On hearing that so distinguished a cavalier, with his
his train, was in the vicinity, the bishop of Cosenza invited
us all to his palace. It was one of our glorious Italian days ;
the landscape danced joyously in the sunbeams, the green
peaks of the Syla, the spires of the city, the winding river,
the waving woods, and the distant sea, all shone in sum-
mer beauty beneath the bright blue sky.
The memory of Laura, her beauty, her gentle innocence,
our love and our misery, made my heart alternately a prey
to the tenderest sorrow, and the fiercest longings to requite
her wrongs upon the wretch Petronio.
It was the levee-day of the bishop ; a guard of mounted
sbirri received us in the porch of his palace. A crowd of
richly-dressed cavaliers, officers, and knights of military
orders, mingling with churchmen, thronged the ante-rooms,
and were introduced, in turn, by the chamberlain. En-
tering the presence-chamber of the great prelate, I beheld
him seated in a lofty chair, wearing his canonicals and
sparkling mitre, gleaming with jewels and embroidery.
On my nearer approach, judge of my sensations on recog-
nizing, in his stern and sallow visage, the accursed linea-
ments of Father Petronio. The blood rushed tumultuously
on my heart, and all the long slumbering spirit of the devil
arose within me.
" Gesu Christo !" I exclaimed, raising my hands to
Heaven; "is this one of Thy servants—Thy chosen
servants ?"
Castelermo arose from his knees in astonishment, while
I unsheathed my sword and sprang upon the bishop, alike
regardless of his power, his friends, and my life ; I trem-
bled, I panted, I thought only of Laura and retribution.
" Hypocritical apostate !" I exclaimed, grasping liim by
the throat, and dashing his mitre to the earth. " Thou pest
of hell! thou murderer of my wife, and wrecker of my
peace! have we met at last—ha!"
" Sacrilege !" cried the strangling bishop. ' " O, gentle-
men and cavaliers, save me from this madman!"
" Madman! ha—peace, thou wolf in sheep's clothing ! I
am Paolo of Casteluccio, and too well thou knowest me;
but die, fiend, die!" The strong hand of my friend
grasped my descending sword, and the life of the dog
THE SECOND PENITENT—THE CAVALIER. 341
bishop was spared, although. I daslied him to the floor with
such force that he lay stunned and senseless.
I laughed with fierce exultation, and strove to trample
him to death, but was grasped by a hundred hands'. All
the smothered fury of years had broken' forth, and, ima-
gining I had the strength of a Goliath, I thought to burst,
like cobwebs, the fetters which were heaped upon me. I
was mad—a maniac, and, knowing that I was so, rejoiced
when men, who were valiant and strong, quailed before the
demon-glare of my eye. The crowded chamber, the
gleaming swords, the halberts of the sbirri, the prostrate
bishop, and the uproar of tongues, are yet before me, like
a dream of yesterday : I remember no more.
When the passion-fit passed away and reason returned,
I was here in fetters, amid gloom and woe. Three sum-
mers have come and gone since last I saw the sun. * * *
O, signor, all hope of life and liberty had faded away, and
your presence alone has revived a love of existence, and a
wish to look on the beautiful world once more—on its
blue skies and green hills, ere death closes these eyes for
ever.
The cavalier concluded just as my lamp was about to
expire, and the grey dawn was peeping through the little
iron grating which lighted his dismal vault. I gave the
unfortunate man my hand, and, leading him forth, struck
off his rusty fetters with a stone I found near the chapel
door. No pen can describe his joy on finding himself free,
and breathing the pure air of the summer morning. The
sun was rising in all its beauty above the dark-green ridge
of the distant hills ; for three years he had not beheld it;
he wept with joy, and, embracing me, declared, with the
enthusiasm of his nation, that his life was at my
service.
" O, signor! never, since I stood by Laura's side at the
altar, have I felt a happiness equal to that which animates
me now !"
His eyes sparkled with joy, and his haggard cheek
flushed. He appeared about thirty years of age, and, but
for his tattered garments and matted hair and beard, his
features and figure would have been eminently striking
and noble. Reminding him that instant flight was neces-
sary, I advised him to join the chivalric Francatripa, with
whom he would be safer than in any Italian city. He
relished the proposal, as many men of birth and education
342 adventuees of an aide-de-camp.
did not disdain to serve against France under such a
leader.
We parted. Catanio was tolling tlie bell for matins, at
the villa, when I returned, and, gaining my room unob-
served, threw myself on a couch, and slept till noon. I
then joined the old cardinal in his daily promenade, under
the cool arcades, on the seaward side of his residence.
CHAPTER XLY.
the thied penitent—the monk.
The escape of a second victim from the vaults caused a
great surmising and anxiety at Canne ; and although, no
doubt, the cardinal suspected that I had a hand in the
matter, he never spoke of it. The astonishment of the
keeper was boundless, when he discovered his charge
vanishing so unaccountably; he was accused of conspiracy,
and imprisoned by order of the podesta. The poor man
defended himself before the tribunal, by laying the blame
upon—whom think you, gentle reader ?—Viegil ; who is
regarded by the lower order of Italians less as a poet, than
as a conjurer and magician, upon whose guilty head the
blame of everything wicked and wonderful is laid.
Among the mountains, he has for ages been deemed the
architect of every devilish contrivance, every fathomless
cavern, splendid crag, fantastic rock, and ruined tower.
A long dispute ensued between two learned lawyers,
concerning the question whether it might or might not
have been Virgil; and the decision was given for the
prisoner, on the testimony of the chiavaro, or smith, who
declared that a venerable man, with a white beard, meagre
aspect, and eyes like living coals, had ordered a set of keys
like those produced in court, for which he paid in strange
and antique coin; and when he (the chiavaro) looked for
them next day, they had vanished from his pouch, show-
ing plainly that they were coins of hell. All present
crossed themselves, and the keeper was immediately set
at liberty, and restored to his dignity and bunch of keys.
Of the Cavalier Paolo, I had intelligence before leaving
Canne. Gathering together a band of those bold spirits
who infested the wilds of the Brettian forest, he fired the
THE THIKD PENITENT—THE MONE. 343
palace of his foe, the bishop, who narrowly escaped with a
severe bullet-wound, of which he soon after died. For this
outrage, Casteluccio had to pay many a bright ducat to the
altars of mother church, before he was permitted to re-
sume his place in society, and it was not until the death of
Murat that he obtained peaceable possession of his patri-
mony at Cosenza.
Several days elapsed without the appearance of the
Foman courier, and I became very impatient to rejoin my
regiment. Notwithstanding the risk of discovery, prompted
equally by curiosity and humanity, I made a last visit to
those frightful vaults, to free the remaining captive.
The stillness of midnight was around me when I entered,
but a noisy singing rang through the echoing cells; the
measure was a boisterous sailor's carol, such as I had
often heard the fishermen singing, as they sat mending
their nets on the shore of Messina.
I beheld in the third captive, an Italian, about forty
years of age, possessing a powerful and savage aspect,
strongly chained to a large stone, which served him for a
chair and table, while a pile of straw between it and the
wall formed his bed. He was flourishing his arms and
snapping his fingers whilst he sang, but ceased on my
entrance, and regarded me with a sullen stare of surprise.
A large leathern flask, which stood on the stone near him,
explained the cause of his merriment.
" Ha! thou cursed owl, that pokest about in the night,
what seek you here, when you should be snug in the dor-
mitory ? Up helm and away, black devil! there's no girl
here to confess—no one but Lancelloti of Friuli, a born
imp of Etna, who will break every bone in your hypocri-
tical body, if it comes within reach of his grapnels!"
" The pirate—the companion of Petronio!" I exclaimed;
" are you that Lancelloti of whom I have heard so much ?
Astonishing!"
" Ho! ho! what are you talking about ?" asked the cap-
tive, rolling his great head about. " I tell you, signor
Canonico, that I am Osman Carora, a jovial monk of
Friuli—(what am I saying?) yes, Friuli—would I was
there again! Never have I seen a prospect equal to the
fair Carinthian mountains, and the deep rocky dales
through which the Isonza sweeps on to the Gulf of
Trieste. It was my hap to look for many a dreary day
through the iron bars of my dormitory on that gulf, and
344 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP^
afterwards to sail, with royals and sky-sails set, every rope
a-taunto, and the red flag of Mahomet flying at the fore-
mast head. Accursed bishop ! I may revenge me yet, if
the good friend who brings me this jolly flask every night
proves true. Ah, TrufA, though crooked in form and cross
in spirit, thou art an angel of light to me !"
" Truffi!" said I; " mean you Gaspare ?"
The renegade, moved alternately by brutality, rage, and
maudlin sentimentality, burst into a shout of drunken
laughter.
"You know him—ha ! ha ! and are a jolly priest, after
all. Alia akbar ! instead of a prying monkish spy, I find
you a comrade. Thou, who knowest Gaspare, must doubt-
less have heard of me. He is now in Canne, planning my
escape from this cursed cockpit, to which the double-dyed
villany of Petronio has consigned me. Gaspare was my
stanch gossip in the cloisters of Friuli, and my master-at-
arms and factotum on board the Crescent; his ingenuity
alone saved me when I had nearly fallen into the clutches
of the grand bailiff, for slaying the Capitano Batello. Fi!
the recollection of that adventure haunts me yet; the
glazing eyes, the clenched teeth, the pale visage, and the
gleaming sword; the silver hairs, and the old man's blood
streaming on the white dress and whiter bosom of his
daughter! O, cursed flask !" said the ruffian, pausing to
squeeze the leathern bottle. " May every monk and mol-
lah anathematize thee in the name of Christ' and
Mahomet, for thou art now empty, useless, and upon thy
vacuity I cry anathema! Beautiful wert thou indeed,
Paula Batello, and too pure a being for such a serpent as
Lancelloti to behold!"
" Caro signor, I would gladly hear her story."
"And so thoushalt; firstly, because thou are a comrade
of our Apollo with the hump ; secondly, because I would
like to hear thy opinion upon it; and, thirdly, because I
love to have some one to talk to in this blasted vault,
whose walls I would that Satan rent asunder and ruined
for ever." And, without further preface, he commenced
the following story, which deserves a chapter to itself.
the monk's stoey.
345
CHAPTER XLYI.
the monk's stoey.
The Capitano Batello was an old soldier of tlie Venetian
republic, who, after an active life, retired to spend the
winter of his days among the woody solitudes of Friuli.
All the village loved the good old capitano, who made
wooden swords and flags for the children, and retailed his
campaigns and adventures a thousand times to the fre-
quenters of the cantina, where he was the military and
political oracle; and at mass, all made way for the white-
haired old man, when he came slowly marching up the
aisle, with the Signorina Paula leaning on his arm. The
old soldier's doublet was perhaps a little threadbare, or
his broad hat glazed at the edge ; yet he never forgot his
rank, even when struggling for existence with half a duca-
toon a day.
But Paula, the gentle-voiced, the blue-eyed and fair-
haired Paula, was the admiration of all—the glory of the
village ; and the old captain watched her as a miser would
a precious jewel. Beard of Ali! she would have brought
a princely sum at Algiers.
She was beautiful, and her soft blue eyes looked one
fully and searchingly in the face, with all the confidence
of perfect innocence. Her mother was gone to heaven, as
the captain said, when he engaged me as tutor to Paula
and her brother, an office for which I received a trifle,
that went into the treasury of San Baldassare—a trap
which swallowed everything. The boy, Rosario, was a
chubby little rogue, and for a time I took pleasure in hear-
ing their lisping accents, as they conned over their task
in an arbour which Paula's hands had formed, at the back
of their little cottage.
Thunder ! how often have I looked back with astonish-
ment on those days, when on the gun-deck of the Crescent
I stood at the head of five hundred of the boldest hearts
of Tunis and Tripoli. "Who then could have recognized
in Osman, the bloodthirsty, the hypocritical Fra Lancel-
loti ? Yes! I was ever a hypocrite, and regarded with
scorn and detestation the sombre garb which tied me
to the monastery. But my fate was not in my own
346 ADVENTURES OP AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
hands ; my parents were a son and daughter of old mother
church, and I came into the world very unfortunately for
both parties. They threw me into the lantern of San
Baldassare, where, thirty years before, my father had been
found himself. As a reward for giving me life, my mother
died in the dungeons of San Marco, and my father ex-
piated his share in the matter at the first general auto-
da-fe ; so you see that I come of a martyred family.
A prisoner from my boyhood upwards, I looked upon
the world as a realm of light and joy, from which I was
for ever debarred by those mysterious vows which the
monks had induced me to profess, before their meaning
was understood. When, from my iron grate, I looked on
the vale of the winding Isonza, blooming with foliage and
verdure, and bounded by the blue Carinthian hills, and
listened to the rushing sound of the free, bold river, how
intense were my longings to follow its course to where it
plunged headlong into the Gulf of Trieste,—where, for
hours, I have watched the scudding sails, till my eyes and
heart ached. O, hours of longing and of agony ! To see
nature spread before me in all her glory, yet be unable to
taste her sweets ; to be a prisoner without a crime. And
love, or what the world calls love, I knew not what it was,
though a secret spirit whispered within me : I longed to
look on some fair face, and to hear a gentle voice reply to
mine,—but love's magic, its mystery, and its madness, I
was yet to learn. With a heart thus formed, and open to
the assaults of that wicked little god,—whom the ancients
should have depicted as a giant,—you may imagine my
sensations on finding myself in the presence of Paula,
whose face and form far outshone the famous Madonna of
our chapel. A hot blush suffused my cheek, but the fair
face of Paula revealed only the rosy tinge of health, and
her brow the calm purity of perfect innocence. I was
silent and awed in her presence : an Italian monk awed by
a girl of seventeen!
With evening, I returned to the cloisters, and a chill
sank upon my heart as their cold shadows fell over me. I
was in my old dormitory, where the truckle-bed, the po-
lished skull, the cross, and rough vaulted roof, seemed yet
the same : but I was changed. The recollection of Paula's
soft, gazelle-like eyes and snowy breast never left me for a
moment, and I passed a sleepless night.
THE MONK'S STOBY.
347
" O, that I were a soldier or a cavalier, for then Batello
would respect, and his daughter might love me: but a
priest—a priest—anathema! anathema! there is no hope
for me—none! O, malediction! why did I ever behold
thee, Paula !"
Thus passed the night. Noon found me again in the
arbour of Batello's garden : the golden-haired and ruddy-
cheeked Bosario was drawling over his task, but I neither
heard nor beheld him. I saw only his sister, who, seated
beneath the shadow of the luxuriant rose-trees, was im-
mersed in the glowing pages of the warrior bard, Luigi
Transilla, the brave follower of Piero di Toledo.
The rays "of the sun streamed between the foliage of the
arbour, lighting up her fair ringlets, which glittered like
living gold; her white neck sparkled in the same mys-
terious radiance,—a glory seemed around her, and the
soft, calm aspect of her downcast face, made her seem the
very image of our lovely lady, the famed Madonna of
Cantarini. Intoxicated with her appearance, I trembled
when addressing her, while she entered frankly into con-
versation with me, on the merits of the soldier's poems.
Pull and calmly her mild eyes gazed on mine, yet no sus-
picion struck her of the passion which glowed within me,
and which I dared not reveal, for death was the doom,—
on the one hand, her firm father's poniard ; on the other, the
dungeons of the Piombi, or the horrors of the holy office.
By night, the ravings of my dreams were heard by the
tenants of the adjoining dormitories, Petronio, and Truffi
the crookback, and they soon learned from my mutterings
that I loved Paula, the daughter of the Signor Batello.
Petronio,—the same accursed Petronio, who, from his
archiepiscopal palace, sent forth the mandate which en-
tombed me here, when, after a tough battle with a Maltese
cruiser, I was cast, half-drowned and bleeding, on the
beach of Canne,—Petronio, whose matchless hypocrisy
makes his villany even of a deeper dye than mine, then
came to act the part of friend, to counsel me to destruc-
tion, and to become the evil genius of the good Batello and
hisTrmocent children.
A thorough Italian monk, dark, gloomy, and supersti-
tious, he was my senior by fifteen years, and had secretly
plunged into all the excesses of Venice. Like the fiendish
hunchback, he was - an adept in every dissimulation and
debauchery, and boasted of his exploits, till, ashamed of
348 ADYENTUBES 0E AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Day weakness, I took lieart, and burned for distinction in
the same worthy fields. I put myself under his guidance
and tuition : to effect what P O, innocent Paula!
I had resolved, by every art of reasoning and sophistry,
to break down the barriers of religion and modesty, and
bend her mind to my purpose. But each successive day,
when I looked upon her snowy brow, her pure and happy
face, blooming with beauty and radiant with youth, my
diabolical purpose was left unfulfilled, unattempted, and
my heart shrank from the contest.
Sometimes, young and handsome cavaliers, from the
castle of Gradiska, or the citadal of Iriuli, came to visit
the old capitano, and the gallantry of their air, the glitter
of their military garb and weapons, the ease with which
they lounged about, strummed on the mandolin, or whis-
pered soft nothings to the fair girl, made my envious heart
burn with alternate rage and jealousy. Intensely I longed
to be like one of them, and yet I could have slain them
all, and Paula, too, when she smiled on them.
But I soon found a more powerful auxiliary to my love,
than either Petronio's sophistry or Truffi's villany could
furnish: and where, think you ? In Paula's own heart.
Ho! ho! a young girl soon discovers that which is the
sole object of her thoughts by day, and her dreams by
night,—a lover! There is a mysterious emotion, so
pleasing to her heart, so flattering to her fancy, and alto-
gether so peculiarly grateful to her mind, in being beloved,
that she gives way to all the fervour of a first passion with
joy and trembling. Ha! thou knowest the hearts of our
Italian girls—warm, tender, and easily subdued: what
more can lover wish P
The garrisons were marched to the Carinthian frontier,
and the cavaliers came no more to the cottage of Batello :
he spent the most of his time detailing his battles, and
reading the Diaries and Gazette at the wine-house, while
his old housekeeper (whom my cowl kept in awe) was
always occupied in household matters. I kept Bosario
close to his task, and, therefore, had the dear girl all to
myself.
What could she hope for, in yielding to such a passion ?
Bemorse, despair and madness! But of these the young
damsel thought not then. Ha! I was then graceful and
well-looking, and we both were young and ardently in
love. My eyes, at one time, my tremulous tones at an-
the monk's stoey.
349
other, had informed her of the mighty secret which preyed
upon my heart, and which my lips dared not reveal, until
the rapturous moment when I perceived the mutual flame
that struggled in her bosom. Then, but not till then, did
I pour forth a rhapsody expressive of my love, when,
yielding to its burning impulses, all the long-concealed
ardour of my heart burst at once upon her ear. Love lent
a light to my eyes, a grace and gesture to my figure, and
imparted new eloquence to my tongue ; I was no longer
myself,—no more the cold, cautious friar, but the impe-
tuous Italian lover. The monk was forgotten in the man
—my vows, in the delight of the moment; and the lovely
Paula sank upon my shoulder, overcome with love and
terror. O, hour of joy ! when I first pressed my trembling
lip to that soft and beautiful cheek. Long years of pe-
nance and of prayer, of dreary repining, of soul-crushmg
humiliation and sorrow, were all repaid by the bliss of
that embrace, which I have never forgotten. No! not all
the years that have passed since then—not all the dark
villanies I have planned and perpetrated, and they are
many—not all the dangers I have dared, and they are
countless as the hairs of your head—not all the toils
and miseries of a life, can efface it from my memory.
I was happy then: I who, perhaps, have never been so
since.
A footstep aroused us, and the blushing girl shrank
from me as the little boy, Eosario, came gambolling to-
wards the arbour, with a chaplet for her hair. I cast a
fierce glance of hatred upon him. Even Paula was
piqued, and refused to receive the flowers, upon which
the child wept, and, pulling my cassock, prayed me to
lecture his sister for being so coy.
" Scold her, Father Lancelloti," said he, rubbing his
glittering eyes with his plump little hands, " for she will
neither kiss me, nor receive my roses, to put among her
pretty hair, as she used to love to do."
" Give me the flowers, child," said I: " shall I kiss
sister Paula for you, Eosario ?"
" O, yes, yes!" cried the little boy, " or sister Paula
will kiss you, and then me."
Our lips met, and the agitated and infatuated Paula
embraced the child, who laughed, and clapped his hands
with innocent glee, and yet he knew not at what. At that
moment, the long sword of the captain jarred on the gravel
2a
350: ADVENTTJBEg OP AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
walk, and Ms heavy tread rang beneath the trellis of the
garden. Aware that, as a priest, I had wronged him in
the declaration made to Ms daughter, and that I had com-
mitted a deadly sin before God, I shrank from meeting
him, and, leaping over the garden-wall, returned to the
monastery, where, not without sensations of triumph, I
recounted my conquest to Petronio and the hunchback.
Three days I visited her as usual, and rejoiced in the
success of my amour; for I loved her tenderly and
dearly. My air was so sanctified, that the most jealous
guardian would not have suspected me; then how much
less the good Batello, who, by Ms profession, had been
accustomed to intercourse with men of the strictest
honour, and suspected no man of duplicity, because Ms
own brave heart was guileless.
My rose-bud of love was just beginning to bloom, when
matters were doomed to have a terrible crisis.
One bright forenoon, when Bosario had finished Ms
task, I was about to return to Priuli, and merely bowed
to Paula, because her father was present.
" Brother Lancelloti," said he, grasping my cope, " hast
heard the news ? The senate is about to declare war
against the Turks, and the capeletti are to be doubled.
Brave news for an old soldier, eh ? I may be a colonello,
with Bosario for captain ! Come hither, thou chubby
rogue—wouldst like to be a captain?"
" O, yes, if sister Paula would play with me as she
used to do, and kiss me, instead of Bather Lancelloti."
" Bosario, what sayest thou ?" cried the fierce old
soldier, with a stentorian voice, while Paula grew pale as
death, and my spirit died away within me; but the
terrified child made no reply. The captain's face was
black with rage ; his eyes sparkled, and stern scorn curled
Ms hp ; yet he spoke calmly.
" Go—go, Bather Lancelloti, and may God forgive you!
I will not require the services of your faithful reverence
from to-day. Away—march ! or you may fare worse:
dare not to come here again ; I am Annibal Batello—thou
knowest me!" And, touching the hilt of Ms sword, he
turned on his heel and left me.
I rushed away, overwhelmed with bitterness, rage,
and humiliation, and hating Bosario with the hate of a
fiend.
THE MONK'S STOET.
351
To Truffi and Petronio my story was the source of
endless merriment; the hunchback snapped his fingers,
whooped, and laughed till the cloisters rang with his
elfish joy. Deprived of my mistress, whom I dared not
visit for dread of the captain's sword, stung by the taunts
of my friends, dejected and filled with gloomy forebodings,
the cloisters soon became intolerable to me. I formed
many a romantic and desperate scheme to rid myself of
those cursed trammels which monkish duplicity had cast
around me in boyhood; but thoughts of the holy office,
the Piombi, and the fate of my father, filled me with
dismay, and I dared not fly from Friuli.
One day, whilst wandering far up the banks of the
Isonza, with a heart swollen by bitter thoughts, I plunged
into the deepest recesses, in search of solitude. Peaching
the cascade which falls beneath the ancient castle of Fana,
I paused to listen to the rushing water, whose tumult so
much resembled my own mind. The voice of no living
thing, save that of the lynx, broke the stillness around
me ; the lofty trees of the dense forest, clad in the richest
foliage of summer, cast a deep shadow over the bed of the
dark blue stream, which swept noiselessly on, between
gloomy impending cliffs, until it reached the fall, where it
poured over a broad ledge of rock, and thundered into a
terrible abyss, whence the foam arose in a mighty cloud,
white as Alpine snow. Rearing its grey and mossy towers
high above the waving woods, the shattered rocks, and
roaring river, the ancient castello looked down on the
solitude beneath it. A mighty place in days gone by, it
had been demolished by the bailiff of Friuli, for the
crimes of Count Griulio, and was now roofless and ruined ;
the green ivy clung to the carved battlement, and the
rays of the bright sun poured aslant through its open
loops and empty windows. But the scenery soothed not
my heart; I burned for active excitement, to shake off the
stupor that oppressed me.
A turn of the walk brought me suddenly upon the little
boy, Rosario, who was weaving a chaplet of wild roses and
trailing daphne, culled, doubtless, for the bright tresses of
Paula. Remembering some stern injunction from his
father, on beholding me, he fled as from a spectre. Like a
tiger, I sprang after him; fear added wings to his flight:
but I was close behind. A fall on the rocks redoubled
2 A 2
352
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
my anger and impatience, and I caught him by his long,
fan* hair, while he was in the very act of laughing at my
mishap.
" Cursed little babbler !" said I, shaking him roughly;
" what deservest thou at my hands ?"
" Spare me, good Father Lancelloti, and I will never
offend again."
" Silence, or I will tear out thy tongue !"
My aspect terrified him, and he screamed on his father
and Paula to save him.
" Paula!" said I, shaking him again; " thy devilish
tongue hath destroyed Paula fnd me too."
" Spare me !" said he, whimpering and smiling ; " and
pretty sister Paula will kiss you for my sake."
" Anathema upon thee!" . His words redoubled my
fury, and I spat on him. The cascade roared beside
me, the deepest solitude was around us, hell was in my
heart, and the devil guided my hand ; I launched the
screaming child from the rocks ; headlong he fell through
the air, and vanished in the cloudy spray of the vast abyss.
The bright sun became suddenly obscured by a cloud, and
a deeper gloom stole over the dell of Fana; the ruined
tower seemed a monstrous head, and its windows invidious
eyes looking down on me—the landscape swam around,
and I heard a cry of murder above the roar of the cas-
cade. The yell of a lynx completed' my terror, and I
rushed in frenzy from the spot. # # * *
I was in my dormitory: the darkness of night was in
my soul and all around me ; overwhelmed with an excess
of horror for my wanton crime, I spent the night in the
agonies of penance and prayer, and making mental vows
to sin no more. Had the universe been mine, I would
have given it, that Rosario might be restored to life. O,
that I could have lived the last day over again, or have
blotted it for ever from my mind! But, alas ! the strong
and dark fiend had marked me for his own. Through the
silence of the still, calm night, came the rush of the
distant river ; there was madness in the sound, but I
could not exclude it, and the cry of the poor child mingled
ever with its roar. Humble in spirit and contrite in heart,
at morning matins I bowed down in prayer among the
brotherhood. The sublime symphonies of the hymn Veni
Creator, or of the litanies of our lady of Loretto, the song
of the choir and the mellifluous strain of the organ, rang
THE MONK'S STORY.
353
beneath the vaulted dome like the voice of God and the
knell of death; and yet they spoke of hope—hope to the
repentant—and I prostrated myself before the altar ;
tears burst from my eyes, and the fire of my heart was
assuaged.
I left the monastery to seek some calm solitude, wherein
to pour forth my soul in secret prayer, but my evil genius
was beside me, and guided me to detection and dis-
grace. I wandered on, but knew not and cared not
whither, wishing only to fly from the haunts of men and
my own burning thoughts. Vain idea! Rosario, as
he sank among the spray, -his sister's tears, his father's
sorrow, were ever before me, and I looked upon myself
with horror.
" Good father," cried a voice, disturbing my dreadful
reverie ; " O, reverend signor, help, in the name of the
Blessed Trinity!"
I started with dismay—what did I behold ? The white-
haired veteran, Batello, bearing in his arms the dripping
corpse of Rosario, while Paula clung to him, overcome with
sorrow and terror. Even the venerable goat-herd, whose
crook had fished up the dead child, was moved to tears ;
while I, the cause of the calamity, looked on with unmoved
visage. Was it an index of my mind ? O, no ! a serpent
was gnawing my heart; I could have screamed with agony,
and my breath cSme close and thick. I trembled and
panted while Batello spoke.
" Era, Lancelloti," said he, "thou comest upon me in an
hour of deep woe, when I have much need of godly conso-
lation; but not from thy lips. A week ago, we quarrelled:
I know the weakness of the human heart, and from the
bottom of my soul forgive thee, for in this terrible moment
I cannot look on any man with anger. Pass on, in the
name of God! for thy presence is—I know not why—
peculiarly hateful to me at this moment. Many a dead
face have I looked upon by breach and battle-field, but
thou—my Rosario—thy mother—" and the old soldier
kissed his dead child, and wept bitterly.
The goat-herd, who had been observing me narrowly,
now whispered in Batello's ear. His eyes glared; and,
relinquishing the body, with one hand he grasped his
sword, with the other my throat.
" Double-dyed villain!—hypocrite!—thou knowest of
this, and canst say how Rosario died! Speak, or this
354 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
sword, never yet stained with the blood of a coward, shall
compel thee!"
" Sacrilege!" I gasped, while Paula swooned; " Sacri-
lege!—I am a priest—"
" Rosario's hand grasps part of a rosary—lo ! thy chap-
let fis broken, and the beads are the same. Speak, ere I
slay thee !" and he drew his sword.
Trembling, I glanced at my girdle ; but a half of my
chaplet hung there; the other was grasped in the
tenacious hand of Rosario. Overwhelmed with terror, I
attempted to escape ,- and, in the blindness of his fury, the
old man struck me repeatedly with his sword, while he
cried aloud for help. Transported with fury at the sight
of my own blood, and dreading discovery, I became mad,
and plunged yet deeper into crime: closing with him, my
strength and youth prevailed over his frame, now en-
feebled by age, wounds, and long campaigns; I struck
him to the earth, and with his own sword stabbed him to
the heart. His blood streamed over Paula—I remember
nothing more. I fled to the bills, and, throwing off my
upper vestments, wandered in wild places, far from the
reach of the Grand Bailiff, who offered five hundred
ducats for my head, sent the carbineers of Gradiska and
the vassals of the duchy, to hunt me down, and es-
tablished such a close chain of communication along the
frontiers, that escape was almost impossible. He solemnly
vowed to avenge the murder of Batello (who had been the
friend and fellow-soldier of his father, the old count of
Lanthiri), and I should assuredly have become his victim,
and been consigned to the gallows or the holy office, had I
not been joined by Gaspare Truffi ; who, after transferring
to his own pouch every bajoccho in the convent treasury,
had come to share my fortunes in the wilderness.
Changing our attire, we embarked for Greece ; but were
captured off Calabria by a corsair of Tunis. Whereupon,
I instantly turned Mussulman, and served his highness
the Bey with such courage and devotion, that, as Osman
Carora, I became the idol of the Tunisians, and terror of
the Mediterranean. Enough!—thou knowest the rest.
Shipwreck and the fortune of war placed me in the power
of my old friend Petronio—and I am here."
"And Paula?"
" Became contessa di Lanthiri, and soon forgot poor
Fra Lancelloti."
A ITABROW ESCAPE.
355
, Such was the story related to me by the third captive
whom those vaults contained: I have jotted it down just
as it was related to me; hut without the many pauses of
maudlin grief, or oaths of rage, with which Ids half-in-
toxicated state caused him to intersperse it.
I need hardly add, that I left this deliberate ruffian'to
his fate, locking all the doors securely behind me; and, to
make the keeper more alert in future—as I intended to
return no more—I left my false keys in his niche in the
little chapel. The terrified warder, on finding a set of
keys the exact counterpart of his own, declared they must
have belonged either to Virgil, or to the devil; they were
destroyed, the vaults sprinkled with holy water, and the
wizard was seen no more.
CHAPTER XLVII.
A NABBOW ESCAPE.
It was a clear and beautiful morning when I issued
forth on my return to the cardinal's villa. As I passed a
cantina by the roadside, under a trellis in front of it, I
encountered two personages, whom I had no wish to meet
on that side of Massena's lines ; the surly Captain Pepe,
who treated me so insultingly at Crotona, and Truffi, the
hunchback, whom I recognized, notwithstanding his dis-
guise—a white Cistercian frock and shovel hat. Draughts,
dominoes, and wine-horns were before them-; and they
had apparently passed the night at the table over
which they leaned, sleeping away the fumes of their
potations.
' As I passed, an unlucky house-dog leaped forth from
his barrel, yelling aaid shaking his chain. The captain,
yet half intoxicated, started up and felt for his sword,
and I saw a bastia knife gleaming in the long lean fingers
of the cripple.
" Corpo !" said he, " 'tis only a priest."
" Hola! call you that fellow a priest P" replied Pepe,
balancing himself with difficulty; but, drunk as he was, he
had the eyes of a lynx, and knew me in a moment. " Mille
baionettes ! an English spy. Ah, Monsieur Aide-de-camp
-—villain! Hola, the quarter-guard! Hola! the provost,
and the noose from the nearest tree; a la lanterne /"
356 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
He staggered towards me with, his drawn sabre, and I,
supposing tie cantina was full of soldiers, became alarmed,
as the hideous Truffi yelled and whooped till the welkin
rang. My death was certain, if captured : not even York
could have saved it, or those important despatches with
which the general intrusted me. But I thought less of
them than of Bianca, life, liberty, and honour. I easily
wrenched Pepe's sabre from him, and knocked him down
with my clenched hand; his head clattered on the hard,
dusty road, and he lay motionless. Truffi rushed on me
with his poniard, but I dealt him a blow across the head
with my sabre, and he fell prone over the body of his
companion.
I fled to the villa, entered unseen, and threw myself
panting upon my bed; where, notwithstanding my fears .
and agitation, I soon fell fast asleep.
In two hours after, I was awakened by Catanio, whose
countenance betokened something unusual. My first
thought was of Captain Pepe.
" The courier has arrived from Home, and his majesty
awaits you." I leaped up, joyful at being undeceived so
agreeably.
" Has he brought the signora's dispensation?"
" His majesty has not said."
My toilet was soon completed, and I was ushered into
the presence of the cardinal, who was seated at breakfast.
His Irish valet was in attendance. The plainness of his
equipage contrasted strongly with the splendour of his
pretensions. He was busy reading, and heard not our
approach.
"You see him, perhaps, for the last time," whispered
Catanio. " Behold ? does there not reign around him a
mystic dignity that makes him seem as much a king as if
he stood in the halls of Windsor or Holyrood ? Ah, who
can look on such a man, declining into the vale of life,
venerable with years, the majesty and memory of ages,
without being moved ? But this is a cold and calculating
age, without veneration for the past; and the regrets of
those who love it provoke but a smile from the selfish and
nrueflecting."
Without partaking of his enthusiasm, I was not a little
moved_by his tone and words.
" Catanio, place a chair for Captain Dundas," said the
A NARROW ESCAPE.
357
cardinal, perceiving us. " Sir, you will breakfast with me,
as I have intelligence for you. Our most holy father
has been pleased to dispense with the vows of the Signora
d'AI fieri, at my intercession, and on presenting this docu-
, ment to the abbess at Canne, she will be free to quit the
convent and resume her place in society. This is the
despatch from the spedizioniere of the papal court."
I returned thanks with suitable sincerity of manner.
" Zamori, a Calabrian fisherman of Gierazzo, is now in
the harbour of Canne with his little vessel, which, as
Catanio informs me, will sail in the evening; on receipt
of my order, Zamori will convey you to any part in Cala-
bria, or place you on board the British frigate, now cruising
in the Adriatic."
" A fisherman's bark will be but a comfortless place on
these rough waters for the delicate signora. But O, most
sincerely have I to thank your eminence for the interest
you have taken in this matter, and the kindness you have
shown me."
" Captain Dun das, here at least I am a king!" said the
old man, whose broad brow became clouded for the first
time. " Though exiled, forgotten by Britain, and standing
on the verge of the tomb, I will yield my pretensions only
with my last breath."
My reply was interrupted by the appearance of six
Drench soldiers, with a sergeant, coming down the avenue
at a quick pace, with their bayonets fixed. I remembered
my encounter with Pepe, the keen glances of Compere in
the church, and all the dangers of my situation flashed
upon me : I stood, irresolute whether to fight, fly, or
surrender.
" Sir, they are no doubt in pursuit of you," said the
cardinal, his aged cheek beginning to flush; " but will
they dare to cross my threshold ? Alas ! what will they
not ? The invasion of Borne, the expulsion of the sacred
college, and the seizure of Pius himself, are <yet fresh in
my recollection. Catanio meet them at the porch, and in
the name of God dare them to enter the' house of one of
his servants !"
"Alas!" replied Catanio, "let me implore your majesty
to pause. "We are but three aged and infirm men, against
seven soldiers, armed, insolent, and rapacious, as the fol-
lowers of a usurper ever are."
358
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-UE-CAMP.
" This is no time for delay. Away, Captain Dundas !"
exclaimed York; " you must fly. 1 Catanio will lead you to
the beach ere the house is surrounded. Farewell, sir; a
long farewell to you: we may never meet again."
Deeply moved by the old man's manner, I bowed, and,
according to the custom, kissed the hand he extended
towards me ; a massive ruby ring—the great coronation .
ring of our ancient kings—sparkled on his finger.
Catanio hurried me away, and, by the most unfrequented
paths we reached the beach, while the soldiers surrounded
and searched the villa.
The cardinal died a few months afterwards, at Home, in
the eighty-second year of his age, and was buried between
his father and brother at Frescati. Henry IX. is inscribed
on his tomb, which the genius of Canova has adorned with
the most splendid sculpture. It is a curious fact, that till
the last day of his life, the cardinal was in communication
with many men of rank, wealth, and power, who seemed
still to have entertained the chimerical hope of placing him
on the British throne ; and many documents discovered
after his decease, and now preserved in our archives, prove
that his family had, even then, numerous adherents in the
three kingdoms; some* of them men whom the government
could little have suspected of such sentiments. Buona-
parte, too—that overturner of- kings and kingdoms—
is said to have expressed a wish to place him on the
throne, and, as an earnest of his friendship, robbed him
of his French estates; but the star of the Stuarts had
set. George III. kindly and wisely passed over in silence
the names of those whose romantic enthusiasm, or poll-
tical bias, the papers of the cardinal-duke had so awk-
wardly revealed.
I got on board Zamori's little sloop in safety, and, in
obedience to the cardinal's command, the warp was cast off,
the sweeps run out, and he anchored about half a mile
from the shbre. Catanio left me, promising to return after
dusk with the signora, whom I anxiously awaited, expecting
every minute to see bayonets glittering on the sunny beach,
or a boat filled with armed men push off towards the
barque of Zamori.
The latter was a garrulous old fellow, whose tongue gave
me very little time for reflection. Night began to close over
Canne, and I beheld its approach with joy; the day had
A NARROW ESCAPE.
359
seemed interminably long. The evening gun was fired
from the Trench fort, the tricolour descended from its
ramparts, and I heard the evening hymn floating over the
glassy sea from the various craft around us, where many of
the sailors lay stretched upon bundles of sails, smoking
cigars, tinkling the mandolin, and enjoying the rich sunset
of their glorious clime. Sinking behind the mountains,
the sun bade us adieu, darkness gradually crept along the
winding shore, and white vapours curled in fantastic
shapes from the low flats and ravines ; slowly and brightly
the moon soared into view, bathing land and ocean in a
flood of silvery light.
I lay on a bundle of sails listening to the skipper's legends
of the young count of Caulonia, who fell in love with a
mermaid that arose from her coral cave in the Gulf of
Gierazzo, and sat beneath his castle walls singing as the
syrens sung to Ulysses, and of the wondrous demon-fish
caught in Naples, in 1722, with a man in armour in its
stomach, and Heaven knows what more. Hearing the
dash of oars alongside the jEchino, as Zamori's bark was
named, and seeing a boat shoot under her quarter, I
leapt up. I went to the side, and received Catanio, who
handed up Francesca d'Alfieri. The poor girl was so happy
to find herself free, and intrusted to my care, that she could
only weep with joy, uttering sobs in the depths of an ample
satin faldetta which the abbess had given her, with two
rosemary sprigs sewn crosswise in front, to scare away
evil spirits.
" Farewell to you, captain!" said Catanio, or Duncan
Catanach ; " do no not forget us, when you go home to the
land we love so well."
" Good-bye; God bless you, old man!" I replied, as the
boat was pushed off and moved shoreward.
The dark grave has long closed over the faithful Catanach
and his illustrious master; but memory yet recalls the old
man's visage : I can see it, as I saw it then,—clouded by
honest sorrow, and its hard, wrinkled features tinged by the
light of the moon.
An hour afterwards, we were ploughing the waters of the
gulf, with the broad latteen sail- of the Echino bellying
taut before the breeze, as she cleft the billows with her
sharp-beaked prow. Zamori grasped the tiller with im-
portant confidence; the crew, his two athletic and black-
360 ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
browed sons, remained forward, and I seated myself beside
the signora, who, permitting her hood to fall back, the
moon shone on her beautiful features and glossy hair.
So dangerous an attraction near old Zamori disturbed
his steering, and the Ecldno yawed till her sail flapped to
the mast.
"A sweet face!" he muttered, as the boat careened
over ; " but it will work mischief, like the mermaids."
" O, signor, I am happy, so very happy!" said Fran-
cesca; the richness of her tone, and the artlessness of her
manner moved me. " Shall we soon see Calabria?"
" That is Capo Trionto," said I, pointing ahead.
"Dear Calabria," she exclaimed, kissing her hand to the
distant coast; " there was a time when I thought never to
behold thee more ! Beautiful star!" continued the enthu-
siastic girl, pointing to a twinkling orb ; " signor, is it not
lovely ? alas ! 'tis gone ; perhaps it is a world !" she added,
clasping her hands, as it shot from its place and vanished.
The increasing roughness of the sea, as we sailed along the
high Calabrian coast, soon made Francesca uneasy ; her
prattle died away; she became very sick, and lay in the
stern-sheets of the boat, covered up with Zamori's warm
storm-jacket, and a spare jib—both rather coarse coverings
for a beautiful and delicate female. At length she slept,
and I was left for a time to my own reflections.
About midnight, I was roused-from a sound nap by
Zamori.
" Look around you, excellency," said he, in a whisper ;
" saw you ever aught so splendid—so terrible ?"
Like a vast globe of gold, the shining moon was resting
on the summit of Cape Trionto, which, rising black as
ebony from the ocean, heaved its strongly-marked outline
against the illuminated sky; its ridge was marked by a
streak of fiery yellow. The water was phosphorescent,
the waves seemed to be burning around us, and we sped
through an ocean of light! The spray flying past our bows
seemed like sparks of living fire; the ropes trailing over
the gunnel, and the myriads of animalculse which animate
every drop of the mighty deep, were all shining with
magic splendour. An exclamation of rapture escaped
me; at that moment the moon sank down behind
Trionto; in an instant, the sea became dark, and not a
trace of all that glorious and magnificent illumination
remained behind.
A NAER0W ESCAPE.
361
"Have you seen these often, Zamori?"
" No!" said he, shuddering, and crossing himself; " hut
such sights never bode good. We shall have the French
in Lower Calabria soon. 'Tis Fata Morgana," he added,
whispering ; " she dwells in the Straits of Messina. I have
seen her palace of coral and crystal rise above the waves.
She is a mermaid of potent power ; God send that-we have
no breeze before morning !"
Cape St. James was in sight when the sun arose from
the ocean, revealing all the glories of the beautiful coast
and sparkling sea. After the stout Calabrians had knelt
and prayed to a rudely-carved Madonna, nailed above the
horse-shoe on the mast, I partook of their humble break-
fast, which consisted of olives, salt-fish, maccaroni, and
sour wine ; the signora was too much indisposed to join
us.
I looked forward with pleasure to assuming my import-
ant command at Scylla, but other prospects made me
happier still. I welcomed the freshening breeze, as the
little bark rushed through the surging sea which boiled
over her gunnels, and roared like a cascade under her
counter; while the ruin-crowned or foliaged headlands,
and the countless peaks- which towered above them,
changed their aspect every moment as we flew on. I
thought of my smiling Bianca, and hailed with joy the
hills of Maida. We beheld the evening sun gilding the
Syla, and at night were off Crotona, and saw the lights
glimmering in its narrow streets and gloomy citadel,
where Macleod was stationed with his Highlanders.
Anchored close under its ramparts, lay the Amp hi on, and
brave Hanfield's sloop of war, the Delight. The sky was
dark and lowering, the sea black as ink; everything por-
tended a rough night, and I was well pleased that our
voyage was over.
My despatch for Captain Hoste required him to bring
round the Boss-shire Buffs without delay to Messina, and
the order was forthwith given to heave short, to cast loose
the sails, and lower away all the boats.
My old friend Castagno, with a party of the Free Corps,
formed the guard at the citadel gate ; I was immediately
recognized, and, consigning the happy Francesca to his
care, beat up the quarters of Macleod. I found him com-
fortably carousing with Drumlugas and some of his officers,
who were passing a portly jar of gioja round the table with
362
adventures of an aide-de-camp.
great celerity. Wlien tlie curiosity and laughter occa-
sioned by my attire had subsided, and when the general's
order had been read, I related my adventures, passing over
the visits to the vaults, and the discovery of Francesca
d'Alfieri.
An hour before gun-fire, the Buffs were all on board the
frigate; her ample canvas was spread to the breezes of the
Adriatic, and by sunrise we saw her vanish round the pro-
montory of Lacinium. The cavaliere Benedetto, with four
hundred, rank and file of the Free Corps, was left to hold
Crotona; while, by Macleod's order, I took command of a
company of those troops which the Ampliion could not
accommodate ; that evening, bidding adieu to brave Cas-
tagno (whom I never saw again), we marched en route for
St. Eufemio, where I was to see them safely embarked for
Messina.
Thanks to Macleod and his officers, my attire had now
become a little more professional; one gave me a regi-
mental jacket, another a tartan forage-cap, a third a sash,
and Drumlugas presented me with a very handsome
sabre, of which lie had deprived the Swiss colonel, whom
he vanquished at Maida. In this motley uniform, I rode
at the head of the Free Company, which formed a very re-
spectable escort for Francesca and her sister, who accom-
panied us ; both were mounted on fiery-eyed Calabrian
horses, a breed famous for their strength and endurance.
While so many bayonets glittered around them, the ladies
had no fear of banditti; Ortensia laughing merrily,, made
her horse curvet and prance, and lent her soft melodious
voice to the jovial chorus with which the Italian soldiers
lightened the toil of their morning march. But Francesca
was reserved, and beneath her veil I often saw tears
suffusing her mild and melancholy eyes.
" Dear Francesca, why are you so sad ?" asked her
sister ; " O, now is the time for joy ! See how brightly
the sun shines on the distant sea, and how merrily the
green woods are waving in the breeze. Most unkind,
Francesca ! for your sake, I have left my poor Benedetto
in that gloomy castle of Crotona. Laugh and be joyous.
Think on the happiness awaiting us at home, and the
embrace of our dear little Bianca, when she throws her
arms around you."
" And Luigi," added Francesca, unable to restrain her
tears.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
363
The path we pursued was different from that which I
had travelled before, and the intense solitude around it
was almost oppressive. We were marching through a
dense forest, where not a sound broke its stillness, save
the cry of a solitary lynx, or the flap of an eagle's wing, as
be soared to his eyrie in the sandstone cliffs, which reared
their rugged front above the woodlands. White wreaths
of distant smoke shot up in vapoury columns through the
freen foliage, announcing that the wild contained other
uman beings than ourselves, but whether these were poor
charcoal-burners, or robbers roasting a fat buck on the
green sward, we knew not. We passed one or two lonely
cottages, where the labouring hinds were separating grain
from its husks, by the ancient modes—trampling the corn
under the hoofs of cattle, or rolling over it a large stone
drawn by a team of stout buffaloes.
Calabria was then (and perhaps is yet) widely different
from every other part of Italy ; its peculiar situation, its
lofty mountains, its dense forests, spreading from sea to
sea, and intersected by few roads, and its hordes of ban-
ditti, made it dangerous and difficult of access to the artist
and tourist; consequently, until the close of Manhes'
campaign of blood, it was an unknown territory to the
rest of Europe. These circumstances rendered the natives
rude in character, and revengeful in spirit, and thus a
mighty barrier rose between the lower orders and the
noblesse ; who (in the words of a recent writer on Italy),
" live wholly apart from the people—they compose two
entirely distinct worlds."
After halting in forests during the sultry noon, canton-
ing in villages, and marching in the cool morning and
evening for two days, we arrived near Amato, a little town
within a few leagues of the Villa d'Alfieri. We were
traversing a deep pass of the Apennines, when the evening,
which had been serene and fine, became clouded; the
lowering sky portended a coming tempest. We pushed
on, at an increased pace, to reach a castellated villa, the
residence of a Calabrian of rank, which we saw perched on
an isolated mass of rock, about a league up the mountains.
Striking and picturesque appeared the vale of Amato, as
the setting sun poured its last blaze of radiance down the
deep gorge, between the dark wooded hills, gilding the
crenellated battlements, Saracenic galleries, and Norman
364 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
keep of the distant castle, and reflected in the river, which
glowed like a stream of molten gold between thickets of
sombre cypress and fragrant orange-trees. Gradually the
hue of the setting orb changed from bright saffron to deep
red, and a flood of crimson lustre fell over everything,
tinging the lofty hills, the thick woods, the glassy river,
with a blood-red tint, which rapidly became more sombre
as the sun disappeared behind the pine-clad hills. Then
thunder rumbled through the darkening sky; gloomy
banks of cloud came scudding across it, and volumes of
vapour rolled away from the bed of the Amato.
" On, on!" cried Francesca ; " O, the storm will be a
terrible one ; feel you not the very blast of the sirocco ?
Alas ! we may die among the mountains. Yonder is the
residence of Guelfo, the Buonapartist—ah! the subtle
knave! If we trust ourselves under his roof, say not a
word of Luigi, and mention not our names. Ah! if he
should recognize us; you remember that terrible night with
the conciarotti and the mob of Palermo.
They pushed forward at a gallop, and I followed, after
leaving orders with old Signor Gismondo, who—as I ought
to have mentioned before—was captain of the Free Com-
pany, to continue his route, double-quick, to Amato,
where we would rejoin him by daybreak next day. Gis-
mondo was now grave, reserved, and melancholy in the
extreme; but I was much pleased at renewing my ac-
quaintance with him. Poor man ! it was fated to be of
short duration. We had scarcely separated, before the
lightning gleamed between the splintered rocks of the pass ;
the air became sulphurous, close, and dense; in five
minutes, it was dark; we saw the luminous glow-worms
sparkling amid the dewy grass beneath the shady foliage,
while ever and anon the red lightning shot from peak to
peak, illuminating the scenery with its lurid glare. After
scrambling up a steep ascent, the face of which was scarped
and defended by four pieces of French cannon, we reached
the gate of this Neapolitan lord, whom I had no wish
to meet again, as his bad political bias had gained
him an unfavourable name in Calabria. Numerous
towers and curtain-walls of red stone surrounded the
building; few windows were visible outwardly, and those
were far from the ground, and well barred with time-
worn stanchions.
castelguelfo—the wolf of amato. 365
Passing through, a gate, surmounted by a wolf's head
cabossed on a shield, and surrounded by the collar of
shells, with the crescent and ship of the Knights Argo-
nauts of San Nicolo, we dismounted in the court-yard.
" Alas! for poor G-ismondo and his soldiers !" exclaimed
Francesca, as the gates were closed, and the descending
storm burst forth in all its fury.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
castelgtjelfo—the wolf of amato.
By the barone, a short and meagre little man of a most
forbidding aspect, we were received with all due honour
and courtesy, and without being recognized; but his resi-
dence was so full of armed men, that it could scarcely
afford us accommodation, ample though its towers and cor-
ridors seemed to be.
" These are Lucchesi, the most hideous provincials of
Italy; those wanderers, who spread over all Europe with
organs and monkeys," whispered Ortensia, as we passed
through the court, which was crowded with the most
savage-looking fellows imaginable. Many were half naked,
or clad only in the skins of sheep and lynxes, beneath
which might be seen the remains of a ragged shirt, a tat-
tered vest, or breeches, once red or yellow; their legs and
feet were bare; some had old battered hats, or red slouched
caps; but the greater number had only their shock heads
of hair, bleached by the weather till it was coarse as a
charger's mane, and overhanging their gaunt, ferocious
visages, grim with starvation and misery, which ever
accompanied French invasion. A few wore the gallant
bandit costume of the south, and all were carousing, and
filling the hollow towers, the dark-arcades, and echoing
corridors, with bursts of brutal laughter, to lighten their
work; for all were busy, polishing rifle and pistol-locks,
and grinding the blades of sabres, poniards, and pikes.
My fair companions shrank with dismay from the hall
windows when they viewed the assemblage below, and
even I did not feel quite at ease; especially after seeing
about two hundred stand of French arms and accoutre-
ments ranged along the vestibule.
2 B
866 ADVENTURES GE AN AIDB-DE-OAME.
" Signor Barone, you keep a strong garrison here," said
I, smiling, while we surveyed the motley crew of ruffians
from a lofty oriel: " do you expect Massena to pass the
Amatosoon?"
" That would be superb! " replied he, with a grin, which
revealed his ample and wolfish jaws. "No, no, 'tis only
my good friend Scarolla, the valiant captain of four hun-
dred free companions, who is here with his band; we are
bound on a little piece of service together. Ha ! ha! if
that fool Belcastro had not poisoned himself instead of the
Maltese Knight, he would have been here too.
At that moment, Scarolla approached: I attentively
surveyed the celebrated bandit-chief, whose name, in the
annals of Italian ferocity, stands second only to that of
Mammone, " the blood-quaffer." He was above six feet
high, and moulded like a Hercules; dark as that of a
Negro, his mean visage announced him a Lucchese; long
black hair hung down his back, and a thick beard fringed
his chin. The band of his ample beaver, his velvet jacket,
and mantello, were covered with the richest embroidery,
and a silver-hilted poniard glittered in his waist-belt. His
brows were knit and lowering, his eyes keen and sinister:
the ladies trembled beneath the bold scrutiny of his glance,
and shrank close to my side for protection, while the
withered little barone introduced us.
" Signor Inglese, the valiant Capitano Scarolla; brave
men ought to know each other: you are both captains,
remember."
" Serving under different, leaders," I replied, while bow-
ing, and repressing a scornful smile.
" Superba! " cried the little barone, laughing and rub-
bing his hands; but Scarolla's brows knit closer, and his
eyes kindled at my inuendo.
The hall was now lighted by several tall candelabra;
their lustre was reflected from the gilded columns and pen-
dants of the lofty roof, and the frames of dark, gloomy,
and mysterious portraits of the ancient Gruelfi, who seemed
scowling from their panels on their degenerate descendant
and his unworthy confederate.
That ancient apartment, when viewed as I beheld it,
one-half bathed in warm light, and the other sunk in cold
shadow, seemed the very scene of a romance; to which the
graceful figures of the Signora del Castagno and her sister,
castelgtjelfo—the wolf of amato. 367
and the picturesque garb of the tall Scarolla, gave addi-
tional effect. Nor were appropriate sounds wanting, for
a storm raged in the valley below, thunder growled in the
mountains above, and the rain rushed like hail on the
casements, the painted traceries of which were often lit by
fitful gleams of the moon, or. the blue forked lightning, as
it shot from hill to hill.
Uneasy in the presence of Scarolla, the ladies, after a
slight refreshment, withdrew to repose, promising to be
up with the lark for our journey to-morrow.
When travelling, or on active service, one is compelled
to accommodate oneself to every kind of society, place,
and circumstance; and, upon this philosophical principle,
I made myself quite at home, and supped merrily with
the barone and bandit, of whom the servants stood in the
greatest awe. Supper over, wine was produced: however
abstemious the Italians may be, I saw no sign of the
national trait that night at Castelguelfo, where we drank
the richest continental wines, emptying the decanters in
rapid succession, as if we had been three Germans drink-
ing for a wager.
Rendered mellow by his potations, our host became
talkative; and, in spite of the nods and contemptuous
frowns of the impatient Scarolla, informed me that he
was collecting men to make a political demonstration, of
which I should soon hear at Palermo—an attack on a
powerful feudatory, with whom he had a deadly quarrel,
which the presence of our army only smothered for a
time.
" It will be superb," grinned the barone. " I hate him
with the stern bitterness of a thorough old Calabrese.
Thrice has he crossed me at court; he caused Ferdinand
to regard me with coldness and jealousy; and when all
the nobles of the province received the order of San Con-
stantino, I alone was left undecorated, and my name, the
oldest in Naples, was forgotten. We have now the country
to ourselves ; and, taking advantage of the lull, all Italy,
from Scylla to the Alps, shall ring with my retribution.
Yesterday, Crotona was abandoned to the Calabri; the
soldiers who fought and won at Maida have all with-
drawn, and there is no one to mar my revenge. O, it
will be signal! In their king's service, the followers of
my foe are all in garrison at Reggio, and his residence is
2b 2
368 ADVENTURES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
unprotected. I have a hundred sbirri well mounted,
armed, and faithful; Scarolla has four hundred of the
bravest rogues that ever levelled a rifle. Superba! Loyal
visconte, beware the fangs of the Wolf! Per Baccho!
there shall be a modern feud between the Guelfi and
Alfieri, famous as that they had of old—ha! ha!"
" The Villa d'Alfieri is then the point of attack,"
said I.
"Superba!" screamed the little barone, who was
becoming more inebriated; " yes, I will clothe its
walls in flames; an<3, if blood can quench them, then
so shall they be quenched. Yea, in blood, shed where
my ancestor's yet cries for vengeance. Viva Giuseppe
Buonaparte!"
" One alone shall be spared, excellencyremarked
Scarolla, who was also becoming excited.
"So I have promised you, prince of rogues, as the
price of your services. The plunder of the villa belongs
to your followers, and to you falls that glorious prize,
the theme of our improvisatori, the pride of the Gala-
brias "
" Bianca d'Alfieri! " added Scarolla, his eyes lighting
with insolent triumph.
" Superb! is she not? " laughed the barone.
" God curse you both," I muttered, instinctively feel-
ing for my sabre, and gulping down my wine, to hide the
passion that boiled within me. I thanked heaven that
they knew not of Gismondo and his company, by whom
I hoped the villa would be saved from this revengeful
rebel.
"When does the attack take place, signor?"
" To-morrow, at midnight. We will burn a fight at St.
Eufemio that will astonish the good citizens of Messina,
and scare Fata Morgana in her ocean palace. You are on
your way to Palermo ?"
I bowed.
" Say, when you get there, that Castelguelfo is in
league with Begnier, has burned the grand bailiff, and
hoisted the standard of Giuseppe of Naples; cospetto!
the cross of the iron crown will outweigh the star of
Constantine!"
" Success to the expedition, signori," said I, drinking, to
conceal my anger and confusion. " Faith ! this is quite a
CASTELGrUELFO—THE AVOLF OF AMATO. 369
revival of that ancient feud, of which the improvisatori
sing so much."
" And long will they sing of the diabolical treachery of
the Alfieri."
" Signor, I would gladly hear the relation."
" You shall, in a few words. You have heard of the
famous fighting Dominican, Campanella, who, in 1590,
raised the banner of revolt in the Calabrias ; my ancestor,
Barone Amadeo, disgusted by Spanish misrule, joined him
with three hundred men-at-arms ; but these were all
defeated and slaughtered by the followers of the then
Yisconte Santugo, on the same field of Maida where you
so lately vanquished Begnier. Then commenced the
quarrel between the Guelfi and the Alfieri, which, though
we never came to blows, has survived for two centuries,
and has settled down into coldness, mistrust, and jea-
lousy, intriguing at court, and petty squabbling at home.
"We are old-fashioned people here ; but France holds out
civilization and regeneration to us. Well, Messer Amadeo
was defeated, and Santugo gave his castle to the flames,
so that the Wolf of Amato might have nowhere to lay his
head. An outcast, deserted by his followers and aban-
doned by all, he wandered long in the wild forest of St.
Eufemio, until, reduced to the last extremities of hunger
and despair, he resolved to throw himself upon the
generosity of his triumphant enemy; and, knocking at
the gate of the castle of Santugo, craved the insolent
porter to admit him to the visconte's presence. He was
absent, fighting against Campanella; but Theodelinde, of
Bova, his young wife, resided at the castle during his
campaign.
" Gaunt, from long-continued misery, overgrown with a
mass of beard and hair, clad in the skins of his namesake
the wolf, instead of the knightly Milan steel, and grasping
a knotted staff in lieu of the bright-bladed falchion of
Ferrara—Messer Amadeo had more the aspect of an
ancient satyr than a Neapolitan cavalier.
"'Madonna mia!' cried Theodelinde, with dismay,
' Who art thou ?'
" ' Signora, thou beholdest Guelfo, the persecuted lord
of Amato, who is come to cast himself at thy feet. My
territories spread from the Tyrrhene to the Adi'iatic Sea ;
they have passed aAvay, my people are destroyed, my
370
ADVENTTTBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
castle is ruined, and I have nowhere to lay my head, save
in the grave. Though thy husband's foe, take pity upon
me, gentle signora: I am perishing with want, for the ban
of God and the king are upon me, and no man dares to
give me a morsel of bread or a cup of water.'
" Gentle in spirit, and milder in blood than our Italian
dames, Theodelinde came of an old Albanian race; and,
moved with pity, wept to behold a warrior of such high
courage and birth reduced to such exceeding misery.
Enjoining her maidens to secrecy, she provided him with
food and raiment, and concerted means for his escape into
Greece. The unfortunate Amadeo was grateful, and,
touched with her generosity, swore on the cross that he
would forgive the visconte for all the persecutions to which
he had subjected him. That night he retired to rest in
peace, beneath the roof of his deadliest enemy.
" Long exhaustion caused a deep slumber to sink upon
his eyelids, and he heard not the clang of hoofs and the
clash of steel ringing in the wide quadrangle, announcing
that Santugo had returned, flushed with victory ana
triumph, his sword reeking with the blood of the
revolters. Theodelinde rushed forth to meet her hus-
band, and their meeting was one of joy; her tears of
happiness fell on the steel corslet of the stern visconte,
and he too rejoiced, for the Spanish king had promised to
bestow upon him all the possessions of Amadeo, if, before
the festival of the Annunciation, which was but three
days distant, he placed the Wolf's head on the high altar
of St, Eufemio.
" The gentle viscontessa knew not of this bloody
compact, but presuming on the joy and tenderness
displayed b 1 11 I, and shrinking from aught that
Amadeo. He was reposing on a stately couch, and
fitfully the beams of the night-lamp fell on his pale
forehead and noble features. He started, awoke, and saw
—what ? Theodelinde by his bed-side, with her stern
husband clad in complete armour. Santugo, his
barred visor up, regarded him with a lowering visage ;
while he grasped a heavy zagaglia, such as our estradiots
used of old, and which glittered deadly, like the eyes of
him who held it. Then Theodelinde knew, by the glare
of that terrible eye, that Amadeo was lost, and she sank
upon her knees,
resembled
led him to the chamber of
CASTELGUELFO—THE WOLF OF AMATO. 371
" ' O pity liim and spare him for my sake; spare him, if
you love me, my husband.'
" But the ruthless Alfieri heard her not—saw her not;
he beheld only the aggrandisement of his power, and
hearkened only to the whisperings of avarice and enmity.
Amadeo leaped up, but his foe was too swift for him.
Hurled with equal force and dexterity, the zagaglia flew
hissing from Santiago's hand, and its broad, barbed head
cleft the skull, and lay quivering in the brain'of Amadeo.
Theodelinde sank down on the floor in horror ; while the
visconte cut off the head with his poinard, and knitting
the locks to his baldrick, galloped to the church of St.
Eufemio, where he flung the gory trophy on the altar.
The ghastly skull remained there, on a carved stone
bracket, for half a century; until the cathedral of St.
Eufemio was destroyed, on the anniversary of the deed, by
the earthquake of 1638. Those who viewed its fall beheld
a spectacle which was beyond description terrible! The
earth yawned, and the stately churchwith its three tall, taper
spires; its pinnacles, rich with Gothic carving; its windows,
sparkling with light and gorgeous with tracery; its massive
battlements and echoing aisles, sank slowly into the flaming
abyss,—down, down, until the gilded cross on the tallest
pinnacle vanished. Convents, stately palaces, and streets
Sank down with it, and where St. Eufemio stood, there
lay a vast, black, fetid lake, rolling its dark sulphurous
waves in the light of the summer moon. Ho! ho ! what a
tomb for the skull of the Wolf!
" The Guelfi were landless outcasts, until, by the treaty
of Utrecht, in 1713, Naples passed away from Spanish
domination ; and, under Charles of Parma, my father
recovered the oldpossessions of Our house; now, in imitation
of Amadeo, I am ready for revolt; and, with every chance
of success, to-morrOw shall unroll the banner of Joseph
of Naples, whom" Madonna bless! To-morrow, let the
Alfieri and loyalists heware: I will not spare even the
linnet in the cage, or the dog that sleeps on the hearth.
Drink, Scarolla, to the; Signora Bianca, who by to-morrow
eve will be hailed as the gay capitanCssa!"
But Scarolla heard him not: Ms head had fallen forward
on his breast, and long ere the host's story was con-
eluded* he was snoring with the force of a trombone,
372 ADVENTUEES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
CHAPTER XLIX.
HAPPINESS.
By daybreak next morning we were clear of tbe castello;
for we quitted its walls while its ruffian inmates were
buried in slumber. I was happy when the ladies were
mounted, and once more on the road, having been under
considerable apprehension for their safety ; dreading,
perhaps, our detention as royalist prisoners in the barone's
residence.
" A rough night the last for a march, signor," said I to
Captain G-ismondo, whom we found parading the Calabri
in the street of Amato.
" A tempest, signor! the blue glare of the lightning
alone revealed to us that foaming river which we forded,
the water rising to our waist-belts; and the rain that
rushed down from heaven was every drop large enough to
beat in our drum-heads."
Ordering the company to march by a solitary and long-
forgotten road towards St. Eufemio, I informed Gismondo
and my fair charge of the diabolical plan laid by the
barone and his revolters to destroy the villa, and assign
the innocent Bianca to the wretch Scarolla, as the price of
his co-operation. Her sisters shrieked with terror, and
old Battista gave me a stern smile while laying his hand
on his sword.
" I know a path across the mountains, signorI
travelled it once to Monteleone: my little daughter was
with me then he sighed deeply. " By Ave Maria this
evening, our good friends the Alfieri will have a hundred
and fifty bayonets at their disposal. Compagna, threes
right, quick march," and we moved off with rapidity.
Marching by the most retired roads, we made a circuit
among the mountains, to deceive the barone, if any of
his scouts should have followed us. The evening sun was
casting the long shadows of the lofty hills of Nicastro
across the woods and valleys of St. Eufemio, the waters
of the bay were rolling in their usual varied tints of
sparkling blue, and the eve was so calm and still, that the
dash of the lonely breakers, as they flowed on the sandy
beach, was heard many miles from the shore, mingling
HAPPINESS.
373
with the solemn hymn of the Sicilian mariners, and the
crews of those picturesque feluccas which spread their
striped latteen sails to the breezes of the strait.
Leaving Grismondo with his company to follow, I pushed
on with the ladies at full gallop towards the villa; they
were both expert horsewomen, and quite outstripped me,
as we flew along the sandy marino. Their merry laughter
and taunting cries of "Li! fi! signor capitano," were
very galling to me, for I was considered the best
horseman (except Lascelles) on the Sicilian staff, and
had twice won the regimental and brigade cup at the
Palermitan races.
" On my honour ! ladies, if I held the reins of my
brave English grey, instead of those of a chubby Calabrian
horse, you would not have distanced me thus," said I,
when they halted to let me come up with them.
The battery erected by the soldiers of Sir Louis de
Watteville was now abandoned and demolished ; the
cannon were away, and the platforms overgrown with
luxuriant grass. How stirringly my time had passed
since the morning when our army landed on the beach
close by!
The moment we rode into the quadrangle of the villa,
the clattering hoofs roused the whole household, as the
blast of a trumpet would have done. To be brief,—great
was the joy diffused by our arrival. We disturbed the old
viscontessa from cards, with which she was rapidly gaining
from old Adriano all the ducats she had paid at confes-
sional an hour before, for peccadilloes. The young vis-
conte, pale, and worn with long illness of mind and body,
received the trembling Franeesca to his arms as if she had
been restored to him from the tomb. The Italians are
peculiarly excitable, and his transports were wild in the
extreme. He had expected to behold his bride no more,
and now she was hanging on his bosom, free, happy, and
more beautiful than ever. As I had long foreseen, he
placed in my hand that of his blushing cousin, Bianca,
while the venerable viscontessa wept and prayed with joy,
scattered a handful of cards and counters over us, in her
confusion, and embraced us by turns. The whole house-
hold, male and female, from Andronicus the chasseur, to
the little ragazzo who turned the spits, joined in a general
chorus of joy; they commenced the furious tarantella in
374 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP,
the quadrangle, and the whole mansion rang with shouts,
which were soon to be changed for those of a less agreeable
nature.
Around the white neck of Bianca, I threw the riband
with the gold medal, presented to me by Cardinal York,
whose kindness had restored Francesca to light and life,
and the sweet girl kissed it, promising to treasure it, for
his sake and mine. She appeared so beautiful, so bloom-
ing, and happy, as she hung upon my shoulder, in the
recess of a lofty window, with the light of the western sky
streaming on her bright curls and glittering dress, and
Santugo seemed so much absorbed in the presence of her
sister, who was seated between him and his mother, with
a hand clasped fondly by each, that I was loath -to disturb
the happy group, and blight their general joy, by speaking
of Guelfo; but the appearance of Gismondo's company
marching along the marino, and the advanced hour of the
evening, made it imperative that arrangements should be
made for fighting or flying. All changed colour when I
mentioned Castelguelfo : Santugo's brow grew black, and
his mother burst into tears.
" O, Luigi! to remain would be madness, when Giacomo
and all our people are serving as soldiers at Reggio I" she
exclaimed.
" It ill beseems you, signora* to counsel me to my dis-.
honour," replied the fierce young mam with singular
hauteur, while his hp quivered, and his dark eyes shone
with fire, " Like all the family of Amato, Dionisio is a
coward at heart, and a rebel BuonapRrtist; and shall I,
who am esteemed among the bravest and mqst patriotic
of our noblesse, fly before a base leaguer with banditti ?
Never! With Gismondo's Caiabri, and the armed mert
I can collect on an hour's notice, td the last Will I
defend my father-house, fighting from chamber to cham-
ber, and story to story, and die, rather than yield,
even should Guelfo involve the whole fabric in names
and destruction."
"Ammirando!" exclaimed Gismondo, entering* "you
speak as I expected to hear the son of my old comrade,
whose honours you will never tarnish. Courage, ladies !
One hundred ahd fifty bayonets are here, under my orders j
and, with Madonna's blessing, and our own hands, the
Wolf may fall into as great a snare as old Amadeo did in,
the days of poor Campanella."
HAPPINESS.
375
The viscontessa shuddered, but her son took down his
sword from the walk
" Dundas," said The, "to you, who are a soldier of
greater experience than any here (not even excepting our
old guerilla, Gismondo), I look principally for advice
during this night's uproar. Come, signor, leave Bianca,
aiid loosen your sabre in its sheath. Ladies, away to
your mandolins and embroidery, or to ave and credo;
your presence alone unmans me. Ola, Zaccheo ! where the
devil is my old courier tarrying now ? Bolt and barricade
every door and window, and muster and arm-the valets.
Even the little ragazzo must handle a musket to-night."
" Had we not better send a horseman to the Loyal
Bcggitore of Nicastro, for aid?"
" An insolent Sicilian dog !" replied Santugo. " Ho, no;
we mUst trust to Heaven and our own bravery."
Land and ocean had grown dark, or what is deemed so
in fair Ausonia. The bright stars studding the whole fir-
mament, and the pale silver moon rising over the dark
green ridges of the wooded hills, sued their mystic fight
on cape and bay over Amato's frowning rocks and flowing
river, illuminating the tall round tower, the broad facade,
and many arcades of the Villa d'Alfieri, and bathing in
silver the orange-woods around it.
Before the hour of the projected attack, we had all pre-
pared for defence, and our arrangements had been made
for a vigorous one: every door, window, and aperture,
were strongly barred and barricaded ; piles of furniture,
statues, cushions, ottomans, massive tomes from the
library, and everything suitable, were pressed into the
service,—forming barriers in the passages and on stair-
landings, in case of an assault. Ere midnight tolled from
the sonorous old clock in the quadrangle, all the ladies and
their attendants were stowed away in the attic story, and
one hundred and eighty men were statiohed at the different
posts assigned them below. Gismondo commanded one
wing of the mansion ; his lieutenant and Alfiero, two cava-
liers of the house of Bisignano, the other ; while Santugo
and myself occupied the centre.
The soldiers were so well posted, that the different ap-
proaches to the villa were completely enfiladed, while that
by the quadrangle would be exposed to a deadly cross-
fire from fifty windows. In this order, we awaited the
revolters.
376 ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
On making my rounds, to see that all were on the alert,
I visited the ladies, who, in the attic story of the old round
tower, were quite secure from musketry. The old viscon-
tessa was on her knees, praying ; she had relinquished her
cards for " The Litanies of our Blessed Lady," and a crowd
of female domestics knelt around her. Bianca and her
sisters were clustered together, with arms entwined, like
three beautiful graces, but looking pale and terrified,
awaiting the strife with beating hearts and eyes suffused
with tears.
" Dearest Claude !" said she whose gentle voice I loved
best, " for God's sake! O, for my sake! do not expose
yourself heedlessly to danger."
" Courage, dear one," said I, putting an arm playfully
round her, " we must all fight like the Trojans of old.
Think of what will be the fate of us all,—of yourself, in
particular,— if Guelfo and his ruffian compeers capture
the villa to-night. If I can put a bullet into the head of
this new suitor, Scarolla—Tush, Bianca! ridiculous,—is
it not ?" She made a sickly attempt to smile, but bowed
her head on my shoulder, and wept. I heard Santugo
and his chasseur uttering my name, and calling aloud
through various parts of the mansion, but I was too
agreeably occupied to attend to them just then.
" Allerta !" cried Gismondo ; and, knowing the military
warning, I hurried away to the scene of action.
" See you the rascals, signor?" said he, pointing from a
barricaded window to a dark mass moving along the dis-
tant roadway, and rapidly debouching into the lawn.
They marched in the full glare of the moonlight, and the
gleam of steel flashed incessantly from the shapeless
column. They carried two standards, and one was a tri-
colour.
" Some of those Jacobin dogs are the iron-miners of
Stilo : they have long been stubborn traitors," said San-
tugo, in accents of rage.
" And bold Scarolla, so long the scourge of Frenchmen,
why leagues he with villains such as these P"
" You forgot, signor," replied the young lord, with a
grim smile, " that he is either to gain a noble bride, or an
ounce-bullet to-night."
the villa besieged.
377
CHAPTER L.
the villa besieged.
" Tkombadore, sound tlie alert!" cried I, to the little
Calabrian trumpeter. The sharp blast of his brass in-
strument awoke every echo of the great villa; there was
a clatter of accoutrements, a clashing of bayonets and
buckles, a hum, and all became still as the grave. We
how heard the tread of the advancing force, which divided
into two bodies,—one to assault the house in front, the
other in flank. A red light shot up between the trees of
the avenue, as an earnest of what was to ensue: the gate-
lodge had been given to the flames.
A steep sloping terrace, enclosed by a high balustrade,
encircled the whole villa : six iron wickets, leading to the
lawn and garden, had been well secured, and this outer
defence formed our first barrier against the foe, who ad-
vanced within a few yards of it, before I ordered the
trumpeter to sound again. At the first note, a volley,
which the assailants little expected, was poured upon
them, throwing them into the utmost confusion, and
driving them back with slaughter. They replied with
promptitude, and poor old Gismondo fell dead by my side.
My blood now got heated in earnest.
" Bravissimo soldateria !" I cried, to the Fr§e Calabri,
while brandishing my sabre, and hurrying from post to
post, to animate their resistance : " level low, and fire
where they are thickest." The roar of the musketry
stirred all the echoes of the vast, resounding building: its
long corridors, lofty saloons, and domed ceilings, gave back
the reports with redoubled force; everyplace was filled with
smoke, without and within : every window and aperture
was streaked with fire, bristling with bright steel bayonets,
and swarming with dark, fierce visages.
Our fire made frightful havoc among the revolters, who
numbered above a thousand, all keen for plunder, infuri-
ated by unexpected opposition, and maddened by wine,
drunk in the various houses and cellars they had pillaged
on their march: their yells were like those of wild beasts
or savages.
The sbirri, or feudal gens-d'armes, who wore the barone's
livery, were lost among the dense rabble of barefooted
378 ADVENTTTBES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAME.
miners from Stilo, grim charcoal-burners, and Scarolla's
squalid banditti. A revolting array of hideous faces, I
beheld moving beneath me in the moonlight, distorted
by every malignant and evil passion, and flushed with
wine, fury, and inborn ferocity. In the blaze of their
brandished torches, glittered weapons of every description,
from the pike twelve feet long, to the short spadetto and
knife of Bastia. Onward they rushed, a mighty mass of
ferocity and filth ; and again they were repulsed, leaving
the quadrangle strewn with killed and wounded.
" Viva Giuseppe ! superha!" cried a shrill, quavering
voice: it was that of the barone, whom we now saw head-
ing a third attack in person, whilst a strong party, making
a lodgment under the portico, assailed the grand entrance
with crowbars and levers. The colonnade protected them
from our fire, and the massy framework of the door was
fast yielding to the blows of pickaxes and hammers, with
which the strong-armed miners assailed it, whilst their
courage increased as the barrier gradually gave way before
their strenuous efforts. At last, a tremendous shout an-
nounced that an aperture was made; upon which, I
ordered the barricades of the vestibule to he strengthened,
and lined by a double rank of soldiers, intrusting their
command to the young Alfiero Caraffa.
The fire of the besiegers had now reduced our force to
about eighty effective men ; and my anxiety for the safety
of the villa and its inmates increased with the wounds
and deaths around me. The whole terrace on the land-
side was fined with marksmen, who knelt behind the stone
balusters, and fired between them with deadly precision at
the large upper windows; through which the white uni-
forms and gay trappings of the Royal Calabrians were
distinctly visible in the moonlight. I dreaded the con-
tinuation of this deadly fire more than a close assault;
and, to increase my anxiety, Andronicus, who acted as our
commissary, came with a most lugubrious visage to
inform me that the ammunition was becoming expended,
and that the pouches of the Free Calabri were almost
empty.
" God! we are lost, then !" I exclaimed; this informa-
tion fell upon me like a thunderbolt. I hurried to Santugo,
whom I found kneeling, rifle in hand, before a narrow
loophole, endeavouring to discover the little barone, the
THE VILLA BESIEGED.
379
main-spring of this revolt, whom it was no easy task to
perceive, among such a rabble, although we heard his
croaking voice and chuckling laugh every moment.
" Superba! viva Giuseppe Buonaparte! viva la Capi-
tanessa Scarolla ! " The banditti answered by a yell of
delight. " On, on, brave rogues 5" he added, " we will
have two pieces of cannon here in an hour."
" Cannon!" I reiterated, and exchanged glances with
Santugo. We were both astounded by the intelligence.
" O, Claude !" said my friend, " I tremble only for my
mother, > for Francesca, and her sisters. For myself, per
Baccho ! you know I would fight, without a tremor, till
roof and rafters, column and cupola, fell in ruins above
me. Is all lost, then ?"
" No," said I, speaking through my hand ; for the
noise of the conflict was deafening; " we may save the
villa yet, and all its inmates ; but a bold dash must be
made. Look yonder! what see you ? "
" I understand—the task is mine."
" Mine, rather."
" No, no, Signor Claude, I have Francesca at stake."
" And I, Bianca—we are equal."
" I care not. Ola, Andronicus! saddle my cavallo
Barbero, and look well to girth and holster—quick, away,
Signor Greco!"
" What we saw was the British fleet, consisting of a
gigantic ship of the line and three or four frigates and
corvettes, standing slowly down the straits of the Pharo,
and keeping close in shore, attracted, probably, by the
sound of the firing. I knew the flag-ship of Sir Sidney
Smith, by its old-fashioned poop-lantern; and my project
was to despatch a messenger on board, craving help. But
how could one leave the villa ? it was environed on one
side by surf and steep rocks, shelving down to a whirlpool;
on the other, by fierce assailants, who were merciless as the
yawning sea.
Desperate was the venture; but that it must be at-
tempted, we knew was imperative. A friendly contest
ensued between us and the two Cavalieri Caraffa, each
insisting on being the executor of the dangerous service.
We contested the point so long, that it was at last referred
to a throw of dice: the lot fell on Luigi, who prepared
at once for the deadly mission, by divesting himself of his
380 adventubes oe an aide-de-camp.
mantle, buttoning bis sbort velvet surtout closely about
him, and talcing in three holes of his sword-belt; while X
hurriedly indited the following note to the admiral.
" Yilla d'Alfieri, Sept. 20th, 1808.
" Sib,—I have the honour to request that you will order
as strong a detachment of seamen or marines as you may
deem necessary, to be landed at the villa of the Alfieri,
which is closely besieged by the baron of Castelguelfo, a
Buonapartist, who is now at the head of a numerous force
of Italian rebels. To protect the loyal family of the
bearer, the visconte di Santugo, I placed in the villa a
company of the Free Corps, and have already to regret the
loss of Captain Battista Gismondo, and nearly sixty rank
and file. Our case is desperate. The villa will not be
tenable one hour longer, as the barone (whom Begnier
has supplied with all munition of war) is bringing two
pieces of cannon against it, and our cartridges are totally
expended.
" I have the honour, &c. &c.
" Claude Dundas, Capt. 62nd regt."
" Admiral Sir Sidney Smith,
" H.M. ship Pompey."
According to the fashion of many large Italian houses,
the stables formed a part of the principal building; and
so, in the present emergency, it was lucky that the horses
were at hand. Santugo's black Barbary horse, with its
red, quivering nostrils, eyes sparkling fire, and its mane
bristling at the noise of the musketry, was led by the
Greek chasseur through a long corridor to a saloon which
overlooked the grottos by the sea-shore. The saddled
steed was an unusual visitor in that noble apartment,
where statues, vases, pictures, and sofas, were piled up in
confusion, to form barricades before six tall windows'which
faced the straits. One was open, revealing the bright
sky, the sparkling sea, Sicilia's coast, and the sailing fleet;
while ten Calabri, with their bayonets at the charge,
stood by, to guard the aperture.
The brave young noble mounted, and, stooping as he
passed out, guided his horse along a ledge of slippery
rock,' and the casement was immediately secured behind
him. We watched him with equal anxiety and admira-
tion, as he rode along the perilous path, where one false
THE VILLA EESIEGEt). 381
step of the Barbary would have plunged him in the
whirlpool, which roared and sucked in the foaming eddies,
beneath the villa walls. The instant he passed the angle
of the building, which was swept by the fire of the assail-
ants, there burst from them a simultaneous yell, which
was answered by a shout of reckless defiance from the
daring Santugo, who, driving spurs into his fleet horse,
compelled it to clear the high balustraded terrace by a
flying leap. Then his long sword flashed in the moonlight
as he slashed right and left, crying—" Viva Carolina!
Eerdinando nostro e la Santa Eede!" cutting his way
through the yelling mass, escaping bullet and steel as if
he had a charmed life ; he passed through them and was
free, and I had no doubt would gain the village (where
the boats lay) safely and rapidly.
Enraged at his escape, the revolters pressed on with re-
newed fury, but changed their mode of attack. A cloud
now passed over the moon, involving the scenery in com-
parative darkness ; but it was soon to be illuminated in a
manner I little expected.
There flashed forth a sudden glare of light, revealing
the sea of ferocious visages and glancing arms of the
enemy, the bloody terrace heaped with dead, the dark
arcades, carved cornices, and lofty portico of the villa: a
lurid glare shone over everything, and a man advanced to
the terrace holding aloft an Indian sky-rocket, a terrible
species of firework, often used by the Erench. Its yellow
blaze fell full upon the face of the bearer, in whom I re-
cognized the villanous engineer, Navarro; I snatched a
musket from the hand of a dead soldier, but ere it was
aimed, the traitor had shot the fiery missile from his hand
and disappeared.
This terrible instrument of eastern warfare forced
itself forward, roaring and blazing towards the villa, and,
breaking through a window, plunged about as if instinct
with life, setting fire to everything inflammatory within
its reach. Erom its size and weight, and the formation of
its sides, which were bristling with spikes, it finally stuck
fast to the flooring of a room, where its power of com-
bustion increased every instant, and a succession of
reports burst from it as its fire-balls flew off in every direc-
tion. All fled in dismay, to avoid being blown up by the
sparks falling into their pouches, scorched to death by
remaining in its vicinity, shot by its bullets, or stabbed by
2 c
382 ADVENTTTEES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
the spikes, which it shot forth incessantly, like quills from
a " fretful porcupine."
In vain I cried for water; no one heard me; the dia-
bolical engine bounded, roared, and hissed like a very
devil, involving us in noisome and suffocating smoke;
and in three minutes the magnificent villa was in flames,
and its defenders paralyzed.
" Superba!" cried the barone. " Viva Giuseppe !" and
the triumphant yells of his enraged followers redoubled.
I turned to the Cavalieri Caraffa.
" Gentlemen, keep your soldiers at their posts to the
last," said I, " while I provide for the retreat of the
ladies."
" How, signor!" asked Andronicus; " on every hand
they environ us, save the seaward, where a whirlpool—
O, omnipotente!"
At that moment, we heard the report of a cannon; a
round shot passed through the great door, demolishing in
its passage a beautiful fountain of marble and bronze, and
the water flowed in a torrent Over the tesselated pave-
ment, while musketry was discharged in quick succession
through the breach. To augment our distress, the
barone's guns had come up; and the triumphant cries,
the ferocity and daring of the assailants, increased as the
hot flames grew apace around us. Shrieks now burst
from the summit of the round tower: overwhelmed with
anxiety and rage, and faint with the heat and smoke of
the fire-arms and conflagration, I hurried up the great
staircase to bring away the females, who could not remain
five minutes longer: but where or how I was to convey
them, Heaven only knew !
The moon, which had been obscured for some time, now
shone forth with renewed lustre, and I saw the sea bright-
ening like a silver flood, as the last clouds passed away
from the shining orb. O, sight of joy! Three large boats
filled with marines and seamen were at that moment
pulled close under the rocks, to which they had advanced
unseen by the foe. The headmost had already disappeared
in the sea grottos : and I heard the measured clank of
the rowlocks, and saw the oar-blades of the sternmost
barge flash like blue fire, as they were feathered in true
man-o'-war style. The boats shot under the rocks, like
arrows; one moment the glittering moon poured its
cold light on the glazed caps and bristling bayonets
THE VILLA BESIEGED.
883
6f the * cloaely-paeked] marines — on. the bright pike-
heads, the gleaming cutlasses, and little tarpaulins of
the seamen—and the next, it shone on the lonely, seething
ocean.
" Saved, thank heaven!" I exclaimed, rushing down
the stair. " Bravo, soldateria! fight on„ brave Calabri,
for aid is near. Hollo, Zaccheo ! throw open the windows
to the back, and bring down the ladies, before the fire
reaches the upper stories. Hollo, signor trombadore!
sound the rally, my brave little man!"
The poor boy was so terrified, that his trumpet-call was
only a feeble squeak ; but the survivors of the company,
about fifty in number, rushed from all quarters to the
spot. A volley of musketry announced that our marines
had opened on the assailants.
"Let us sally out—away with the barricades!" cried
Lieutenant Caraffa, and we rushed forth with charged
bayonets, eager to revenge the slaughter and devastation
of the night. The regular fire of a hundred marines from
the terrace—to which Santugo led them by a secret pas-
sage from the grottos below—threw the revolters into a
panic, and their discomfiture was completed by a strong
detachment of seamen, headed by Hanfield, the gallant
captain of the Delight, whom Sir Sidney had sent in com-
mand of the expedition. Bushing over the lawn with a
wild hurrah, they fell slashing and thrusting with cutlass
and pike among the recoiling rabble of the barone, who,
abandoning their two six-pounder guns, fled en masse,
with rapidity ; but fighting every step of the way towards
the mountains, and firing on us from behind every bush
and rock which afforded momentary concealment. In the
pursuit, I encountered the formidable Scarolla, who fired
both his pistols at me without effect, as I rushed upon him
with my sabre ; clubbing his rifle, he swung it round his
head with a force sufficiently formidable, but, watching an
opportunity when he overstruck himself, I sabred him
above the left eye, and beat him to the ground, when some
of his followers made a rally and carried him off.
" Viva G-iuseppe!" cried a well-known voice close by
me, and looking round, I beheld the little author of all
the mischief straggling in the grasp of a seaman, whom,
by his embroidered anchors, I recognized as boatswain of
the Delight, He was not much taller than his antagonist)
2 c 2
384 ADVENTURES OT AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
the barone, but strong and thickset, with the chest and
shoulders of an ox ; an ample sunburnt visage, surmounted
by a little glazed hat, and fringed by a circular beard of
black wiry hair below, his cheek distended by a quid, and an
enormous pig-tail reaching below his waist-belt, made him
seem a very formidable antagonist to Guelfo, whom he
had knocked down, and over whom he was flourishing his
heavy cutlass, squirting a little tobacco-juice into his eyes
from time to time.
" Maladetto !" growled the Italian lord, " O, povero voi,
Signor Marinero !"
" Avast, old Gingerbread! I speak none of your foreign
lingos," replied the boatswain.
Flushed with rage and disappointment, the barone
struggled furiously with his strong antagonist, who held
him at arm's length, in doubt whether to cleave him down
or let him go, till Zaccheo, the Greek, approached, and,
ere I could interfere, ended the matter, by driving his
couteau-de-chasse through the heart of Guelfo, who ex-
pired without a groan.
By daybreak, the fighting was over. A poor little mid-
shipman and several seamen were killed ; a hundred of our
mad. assailants lay dead in the quadrangle, and as many
more round the terrace. In the villa, half its garrison
lay killed or wounded around the windows, from which
the flames and smoke rolled forth in mighty volumes ;
many were roasted or consumed before we could remove
them ; poor old Gismondo with the rest. Hanfield ordered
his men to save the villa from further destruction; but the
flames had gathered such force, that for a time every effort
seemed fruitless. Assisted by three boats' crews from the
flag-ship, they pulled down a part of the mansion, and
turned the water of the jets <Teau on the rest, to prevent
the fire (which was confined to one wing), from spreading
to the main building. After an hour of toil and danger,
during which I worked away in my shirt-sleeves until I
was as black as a charcoal-burner, the flames were sup-
pressed; but how changed was the aspect of the once
splendid villa!
One portion of the building was roofless and ruined; its
lofty casements shattered, its corbelled balconies, tall
pillars, and rich Corinthian entablatures, scorched by fire,
and blackened by smoke ; the ravaged gardens and ter-
the nuptials.
385
races were strewn with corpses, the halls, saloons, and
corridors, encumbered with the same ghastly objects,
splashed with blood, and filled with confusion and destruc-
tion; pier-glasses, vases, and statues were dashed to pieces ;
hangings and pictures rent and torn. The quiet library
and elegant boudoir rang with the cries of the wounded,
or the reckless merriment of the sailors, who caroused
on the richest wines. But Santugo looked around him
with the most perfect sangfroid.
Twenty prisoners we had captured were sent over to
Palermo, where they expiated their revolt in the horrible
dungeons of the Damusi,—the most frightful, perhaps, in
the world, where their bones are probably lying at this hour.
CHAPTER LI.
the nuptials.
"When the fight was over, the fire extinguished, and the
dead all interred, I repaired to the grotto, where the ladies
and their attendants were shivering with terror, and the
cold air of the sea, which every instant threw a shower of
sparkling spray into the damp vaults. A statue to Si;
Hugh, before which three dim tapers were always burn-
ing, gave a picturesque aspect to the natural grotto, and a
rill of limpid water, at which the saint had quenched his
thirst, gurgled from the rocks into a rich font of white
marble. Around this little shrine the females were clus-
tered; and a cry burst from them when I approached in
my unseemly garb, spotted with blood, blackened by
powder, smoke, and toil, and plastered over with clay, as
if I had been dipped in the mud-baths of Abano.
The carriage was brought; the horses of the ladies were
saddled, and they left the half-ruined villa with a strong
escort, to take up a temporary residence at the castle of
Angistola, the property of the duke of Bagnara, near
Pizzo. After seeing the remains of the Calabrian com-
pany embarked for Messina in our gun-boats, I, accom-
panied by Santugo, followed the ladies at full gallop,
leaving the old chasseur to act as commandant at the villa.
I despatched a mounted servant to Scylla, for some of my
baggage, a; suit of uniform especially, as my harness was
quite ridiculous in the gay salons of the duchess.
386. ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAME.
At Angistola, the ladies soon recovered from their terror
and fatigue; the beauty of the scenery, where the steep
Apennines sloped down to the gulf of St. Eufemio, covered
with dark pines or orange-trees, and the deep-wooded dell
through which the river wound, seemed gloomy, solemn,
and picturesque. The duke of Bagnara held a military
command at a distance, but his fair duchessa, who was one
of the reigning beauties of the Sicilian court, received us
with every honour and kindness.
A few days after our arrival, we had the castello filled
with milliners from Palermo, and the ladies were con-
stantly clustered in deep consultation around the duchess,
in her boudoir; the visconte was joyous and gay—a fete
was evidently approaching ; he was about to espouse his
cousin, with all the splendour that wealth could yield, and
the imposing pomp of the Catholic Church impart: and
(to be brief) I found myself on the same happy footing
with my dear little Bianca, without the portentous ques-
tion having been asked. It was all quite understood; we
had made nO secret of our mutual attachment, which was
revealed by every gentle word and tender glance. Our
marriage was the earnest wish of Santugo and the viscon-
tessa; and as for her principal relative, the withered little
prince of St. Agata, as the girl was without a ducat, he
cared not a straw who became her husband.
The day before the auspicious one, old Era Adriano
came jogging up to the castello, on his ambling mule, in
the execution of his office as family confessor, to confess us
all, according to the Italian custom, before marriage. To
this I objected, first with a joke, and then gravely, much to
the horror of the reverend friar; he turned up his eyes,
and muttering, " Ahi! eretico I" went in search of Bianca,
who confessed to him—heaven knows what! So innocent
a being could have nothing to reveal, save her own happi-
ness and joy.
Adriano had scarcely left me, when I saw a serjeant, in
the welcome and well-known uniform of my own regi-
ment, ascending the steep avenue to the castle porch.
" What can be the matter now ?" thought I, and at such
a time—the deuce ! " Well, Gask, what news from the
corps, and what has brought you here ?" said I, as he
entered the room, and stood straight as his half-pike,
which he held advanced. " Take a chair, man," I added,
with that kind familiarity with which an officer ought
the nuptials.
387
always to greet a soldier of his own regiment in a strange
place.
" Sir, I have brought a letter from Sir John Stuart.
Being on my way to join the garrison at Scylla castle, he
sent me over in a gun-boat from Messina, that I might
deliver this, which he was [anxious you should receive
without delay."
I tore open the note. It ran thus :—
" Messina, Tuesday Morning.
" Deab Dundas,—Join your garrison at Scylla, without
a moment's delay; General Sherbrooke threatens to super-
sede you, and order you to join the ' Wiltshire,' at Syra-
cuse, as he understands that you attend more to the ladies
than his majesty's service. Massena and Begnier are
concentrating forces in Upper Calabria; the chiefs of tbe
Masse are wavering, ana you may expect more broken
heads by Christmas. Adieu! I start for London to-morrow.
" I am, &c. &c.,
" J. Stuaet, Major-General."
" So, Gask, you are bound for Scylla P" said I, glad the
pote contained only a friendly hint.
"Yes, sir."
"You will go with me, as it is unsafe for you to travel
alone in such a country as this. I set out the day after
to-morrow."
"lam much obliged to you, sir, for your forethought.
Do we march by daybreak ?"
" Wo, no," I answered, laughing ; " that would scarcely
suit 3 but retire with the chamberlain, who will order you
a luncheon, and tell you news."
Though pleased with Sir John's friendly attention, I
could very well have dispensed with the presence of my
countryman, the seijeant, who was a true-blue Presby-
terian from the Howe of Fife, an ardent worshipper of
Eben Erskine, and one, consequently, who would look
with pious horror on the popish ceremonies of the
morrow, which there was no doubt he would witness, with
the household of the eastello.
Poor Gask! He was a worthy and good soldier, for
whom the whole corps had a sincere respect. Educated
for our stern Scottish kirk, some misfortunes in early life
forced him into the ranks, where his superior attain-
388 ADVENTT7BES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
ments and classical education made him a marvel among
the Wiltshire meD, and gained him three stripes, although
it could do nothing more, the quiet tenor of his way being
the reverse of the smart drill corporal or bustling serjeant-
major, who looks forward to the post of adjutant. He
was the beau-ideal of a Scottish soldier—grave, intelli-
gent, and steady; and was seldom seen, unless book in
hand, reading in some retired nook, when his comrades
were roystering in the canteen or sutler's tent. Poor
G-ask! this page is the only tribute to your memory.
.Next day, the marriages were celebrated with great
pomp in the church of St. Eufemio, at NIcastro; that of
the visconte and Francesca took place first, and was
followed by that of Bianca and myself. A new uniform
coat was quite spoiled by the holy water, which the bishop
sprinkled over us very liberally; and my white " regimen-
tal breeches" were totally ruined by the rough mosaic of
the church, when I advanced on my knees, with a lighted
candle in one hand, to present bread and wine to the
bishop, while old Adriano waved the stole over us, according
to the usage of the land.
" Ah! if any of our mess could see me just now, how
the rogues would laugh," thought I, while scrambling
along the aisle, with the hot wax dropping on my fingers
from the confounded taper, which I did not hold so grace-
fully as Bianca held hers. Grand as the ceremony was,
I disliked so much of it, and dreaded to encounter the
cold smile and smirking face of Serjeant Gask, who
stood, upright as a pike, among the kneeling domestics.
We were glad when the bishop concluded the ritual, the
fundamental part of which was simple enough; but I
could very well have dispensed with all that Italian
superstition had added to it; yet I behaved with such
decorum, that the bishop believed me as stanch a Catholic
as ever kissed cross, and fain would gentle Bianca have
thought me so too. The moment we left the altar, a bright
circle of young ladies clustered round her, covering her
with kisses, while the people shouted, " O giorno felice !
Viva il capitano! Viva la capitanessa !"
All blessed her, and muttered, " Bell' Idolo!" as she
passed forth; indeed, she appeared as enchanting as beauty
of the most delicate caste, the richest attire, and most
splendid diamonds could make her, and if always lovely,
even in the plainest garb, imagine how she must have
the tempest.—the last of the hunchback. 389
shone in her magnificent bridal dress, when her eyes
beamed with delight, and her soft cheek turned alternately
deep red and deadly pale, as the blood came and went
with the varying thoughts that agitated her—awe and
modesty, love and exultation.
" Giorno felice, indeed!" thought I, and, springing into
the carriage beside her, we drove off for the castello, as
fast as four galloping horses could take us. The sonorous
organ, the chanting priests, the ringing bells, the shouts,
and discharge of fire-arms, died away behind us, and
accompanied by a gay cavalcade of the fairest and
noblest in the province, our marriage train swept through
the solitary vale of the Angistola, at full speed, towards
the castle, where a lordly fete awaited us, and from the tall
windows of its hall a blaze of light was shed on the
darkening scenery and winding river as we rode up the
gloomy avenue.
CHAPTER LII.
the tempest.—the last of the hunchback.
Leaving Santugo and his bride with the duchess, we
set out next day for Scylla: our calesso having an escort,
without which, it was impossible to travel in such a
country. Gask occupied the rumble, beside Annina, while
a chasseur, with ten sbirri, sent by the duchess, rode five
in front and five in the rear; their leader riding some
hundred yards in advance. All these men wore the duke's
livery; they were well mounted, and armed with carbines,
sabres, and pistols. The calesso was furnished with a
loop-hole, opening under the rumble, through which I
could blaze away with my pistols, in case of having to
retreat skirmishing.
The scenery was now beginning to assume the brown
warm tints of autumn, but the savage mountain gorges,
the deep woods, the winding shore, and beetling cliffs,
through which the road lay, were not less beautiful than
when I passed them before with poor Castelermo. The
ramparts of Monteleone, the bosky forest of Burello, the
silver windings of Metramo, the famous vineyards of
Rossarpo and Giojawere all passed rapidly; and, plunging
390 ADVENTUEES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
down into the wilderness, between the Apennines and
the sea, we had accomplished half our journey, when a
tremendous storm overtook us.
Our hearts were so full of happiness, and each was so
much absorbed in the presence of the other, that we
marked not the flight of time ; and though our carriage
rolled on through the most beautiful scenery of that wild
province, we bestowed scarce a glance or a thought upon
it. Yet we conversed very little, for an overwhelming
sense of happiness had quite subdued Bianca's vivacity.
I deemed myself the luckiest member of our Calabrian
army. Hundreds had come only to find a tomb on the
plains of Maida, before the ramparts of Crotona, or in
the trenches of Scylla. A few had gained a step of pro-
motion and a little honour ; the general a great deal—the
title of count; and, from the city of London, a substantial
dinner at the Mansion-house, with the. present of a
splendid sword; but I had gained Bianca d'Alfieri, who
had, last season, turned half the heads in Palermo.
"Bravo Claude!" thought I; "it is quite a regimental
triumph, and deserves to be borne on our colours. At
Syracuse, the mess will drink deep when they hear of it."
The darkening of the sky, across the azure surface of
which dense columns of cloud were moving in rapid
succession, and the exhalation of a chilly vapour and
malaria from the stagnant pools of a dismal swamp, in
which we suddenly became entangled, all foreboded a
coming storm. The sea, when seen at intervals between
the opening hills, was black as ink, and fleckered with
masses of foam. Vessels were making all snug aloft, and
getting close under the lee of the shore, to avoid the
threatened tempest, which was soon to sweep over the
bosom of the trackless ocean. The rumbling of the
carriage and the hoofs of our galloping escort sounded
deep and hollow between the echoing hills.
" Signor," said their decurione or chasseur, riding up
to the window, which I had let down for the admission of
air, "in three minutes we shall have a tremendous storm,
:—perhaps la capitanessa would wish to seek a place of
safety."
" But where P"
" Madonna only knows, excellency. The earth shakes,
the air is thick. I am an old man, and remember with
dread when last I saw such signs. Ply to the shore—the
THE TEMPEST.—THE LAST OF THE HUNCHBACK. 391
sea may engulf you ; to the hills—they may fall down,
and overwhelm you; to the plains—and the solid earth
inay yawn beneath your feet."
" Pleasant!" I said, considerably startled; " what do
you advise—to seek Seminara ? The spire of the Greek
cathedral rises yonder, above the pine-woods and vapour of
the marshes."
" No, signor, we are safer on the mountains or in the
marshes: here let us remain, and trust to Madonna for
protection."
" In God alone is all my trust!" said the Scottish ser-
jeant, whose knowledge of Latin enabled him to under-
stand the sbirro ; but as for your Madonna——" he
snapped his fingers, without concluding.
The blackness was increasing fast, and we sought the
shelter offered by a thick pine-wood to escape the pelting
rain, which.rushed down in a torrent, every drop larger
than a pistol-bullet. As it would have been unsoldier-like
to remain in the calesso while our escort were exposed to
the storm, I passed the time under the trees, rolled up in
my military cloak, after securing the carriage-doors, to
protect Bianca and her attendant, who drew their veils
close, to shutout the flashes of v'
terrible noise, such as I had never heard before, rumbled
in the earth and air. I looked to the sbirro ; he was
crossing himself and muttering an ave, while a sour
Presbyterian smile curled the hps of Gask, who leaned on
his pike beside him. The chasseur, or decurione, ordered
the horses to be unharnessed from the carriage, and I had
soon reason to thank him sincerely for his forethought.
We saw the flames of distant Etna casting a light across
the western sky, but, in every other direction, the heavens
were involved in gloom, or dark grey twilight. The whole
atmosphere, however, soon began to assume an aspect so
fiery, that over Seminara the dense clouds seemed as if
rolling in flames, and we beheld the tall fa£ade of the
Greek abbey, the dark mountains, and the arches of a
ruined aqueduct between them, standing in bold outline
and strong relief on the red and luminous background.
The scene was wild and magnificent; but the drenching
rain, and the roaring wind, which shook the strongest
pines like ostrich feathers, and almost blew us away with
the branches, leaves, and stones, which it swept over the
instant illumined the darkest
392 ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
waste, the sulphureous state of the atmosphere, and the
ground trembling beneath our feet, made us feel, alto-
gether, too uncomfortable to enjoy the splendid aspect of
the heavens and earth agitated by such a storm.
It was truly Calabrian! Our horses snorted and
pranced, their manes bristled, their'prominent eyes shot
fire, and it required all our efforts to calm them, and keep
them from breaking the bridle-reins, which we had buckled
to trees. [Suddenly, a most appalling clap of thunder
burst over our heads, like the broadside of a fleet. A lofty
and precipitous cliff of volcanic rock, which reared up its
rugged front not far from us, heaved and reeled, like some
mighty animal convulsed with agony: shaken to the base
by some tremendous subterranean tnroe, it rocked visibly,
and the foliage on its summit was tossed, like raven
plumage on a hearse, by the motion.
Anon, a cry of dismay burst from the sbirri. An enor-
mous mass became detached from the highest peak ; roll-
ing from its perpendicular front, and rebounding from
cliff to cliff, it came thundering into the plain below,
bringing with it a mighty ruin of shattered stones, dust,
trees, and soil, which fell like the fragments of a moun-
tain, and with a force that shook the ground we stood on.
The crash was deafening : a storm of leaves, small stones,
and dust flew past us, and, for a minute, the air was fear-
fully dense, gloomy, and palpable. I reeled, and clung to
the carriage-wheels for support; jBianca swooned; Gask
was praying devoutly, with nis grenadier-cap off, and the
sbirri muttered their aves aloud: above us, the thunder
rolled on from peak to peak, and the lightning shot
between them, while the air grew darker and more
sulphureous.
Terrified by the shaken rock and the bursting thunder-
bolts, our fiery horses became mad : they foamed, snorted,
plunged, and kicked fire from the stones; the four that
were unharnessed from the calesso, broke loose, and
fled, at full speed, towards Seminara, pursued by the
decurione and his sbirri, who were eager to save them:
they were noble bays, and favourites of the duchess.
Thus the serjeant and I were left alone, standing by the
calesso.
" G-hieu, ho! ho!" cried a croaking voice in the thicket.
I heard a chuckling laugh; and a figure, rolled up like a
THE TEMPEST.—THE LAST OF THE HUNCHBACK. 393
ball, making a summerset over the rocks and stones,
lighted close by my feet. " Buon giorno, Signor Capitano!
he, he! ho, ho! fine evening, eh P"
Like a gigantic toad, Gaspare Truffi stood before me,
•with his long matted hair waving over his frightful visage,
his torn cassock revealing a leathern baldrick, furnished
with pistols, poniard, and horn. Like the very demon of
the storm, he whooped and yelled. A broad-leaved hat,
of the largest size, overshadowing his figure like an
umbrella, gave a peculiarly droll effect to his aspect.
"A delightful evening!" he croaked; "how does our
Calabrian weather agree with your stomach, Signor In-
glese P 111, I think, to judge from that lugubrious visage
of thine. Ola, Lancelloti! come hither and behold the
goods padre confessor, who came so devoutly to worm a
story out of you in the bishop's vaults : he, he ! ho, ho!
Feel you how the ground shakes ?" he added, stamping
his shapeless feet on the quaking turf; "feel you how
earth and air tremble ? Ammirando ! there is a rebellion
in hell,—for our good friend, the devil, is gone to the
witch-tree at Benevento to-night: ha, ha!"
"Beard of Mahomet!" cried a distant voice, "where
are you, cursed crookback ?" and at that moment I saw
my friend of the vaults advancing towards us, clad in the
usual brigand costume, with malice in his eye, and a
cocked rifle in his hand. Other figures, like dim ghosts,
appeared through the dark misty vapour that floated
round us, and I knew that we had fallen in with a party
of banditti.
" Come on, comrades," cried Truffi; " here is a calesso,
containing, I doubt not, the Signora Bianca, whom we all
know of. Viva! a prize worth a thousand scudi!" He
advanced to the door of the carriage, but, with the butt
of his pike, Gask dealt him a blow which levelled him on
the turf. Uttering a yell, he rushed like a lion upon his
assailant, who, not expecting so vigorous an onset from a
figure so decrepit, was taken completely by surprise, and
deprived of his weapon, which Truffi snapped like a reed,
1-pole to threads with his sharp teeth
); and I, narrowly escaping a rifle-
shot from Lancelloti, closed with the hideous dwarf, whose
insulting demeanour hadroused both my hatred andanxiety.
394 ADVENTTTEES OP AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Though once before, in a personal struggle, I had obtained
Convincing proof of his wondrous strength, I disdained to
use my sabre against him, but, striking the poniard from
his hand, endeavoured to hurl him to the earth, by grasp-
ing his leather girdle. In vain! his short bandy legs
upheld his shapeless body, like pillars of steel, while
his strong and ample hands] grasped me like grappling-
irons.
Lancelloti advanced with his clubbed rifle, but G-ask
assailed him with his sword, and I was left to deal with
Truffl alone. I heard the cries of Bianca during the lulls
of the storm, and my anxiety was great: the sbirri had all
disappeared, the misty figures were rapidly increasing in
form and number, and shouts rang through the echoing
wood. At this most critical moment, when engaged in a
desperate struggle, the earth shook under our feet, and a
sensation, like an electric shock, shot over every nerve.
We paused, and glared fiercely at each other.
Again, there was a rumbling in the lurid air above, and
the quivering earth beneath,—yet we relaxed not our vice-
like grasp. What a moment it was ! The shaking rocks,
the waving trees, and the whole country around us, were
torn by one of those mighty convulsions so common to the
Calabrias.
Never shall I forget my sensations when, within a yard
of where we struggled, the earth gaped and rent, showing
an awful chasm, about twenty feet wide : my heart forgot
to beat—my blood curdled ! From the gap, there arose a
thin sulphury light, illuminating the trees above, and the
distant dingles of the wood, shining on the wet trunks and
glistening leaves ; showers of sparks and columns of smoke
arose from it, with balls of ignited matter, which hissed
in succession as they rose and fell, or exploded among the
wet foliage of the forest. Beautiful was its aspect, when
illuminated by the mysterious yellow glare of that smoky
chasm, and I saw the distorted form of Truffi, in strong
outline, between it and me. I felt his grasp tightening:
we were near the gulf, and I read his hellish purpose m
the twinkling of his red, hollow ^ ' 11
hopes,—I flung bim from me into the flaming chasm, but
the shock threw me prostrate on the turf. I leaped up i
Truffi had vanished in that appalling grave, which was
strength for one tremendous
THE TEMUEST.—THE LAST OE THE HUNCHBACK. 395
now closing rapidly, and soon shut altogether; the sparks
and ignited matter arose no more, and the wood became
involved in double gloom.
Dismayed at the horrible living tomb which had so sud-
denly engulfed .the hunchback, Lancelloti shrank back,
and I leaned against the carriage, overcome with my own
emotions. The wind was dying away—the heavy pine-
branches hung down motionless. One voice alone broke
the stillness,—it was that of the Scottish Serjeant, who
prayed devoutly. Though as brave a fellow as ever drew
sword, he was terrified at that moment.
"We soon heard the galloping of hoofs, and the decurione,
with the ten sbirri, came back, upon which Lancelloti and
his company disappeared, and we saw them no more that
night.
"The carriage-horses P" I inquired.
" O, signor! they have all rushed over the cliffs of
Palmi, and perished in the sea," replied the breathless
sbirro.
" Bianca!" I exclaimed, " 0 God, what a fate you have
escaped! Signor decurione, never can I sufficiently
reward you, for desiring the horses to be unharnessed
so soon!" I shook the hand of the sbirro, while my
heart sank, at the contemplation of what might have
happened.
It was long ere Bianca recovered from the horrors of
that night,—which, indeed, were such as might have
shaken a stouter heart than that of the gentle Italian
girl
We reached Seminara with great difficulty, dragging
the calesso by the saddle-horses ; but, on obtaining mules
at the Greek abbey, we again set out for Scylla, via Bag-
nara, where, soon afterwards, I had a sharp encounter
with the voltigeurs of the 23rd regiment (French).
396
adventures of an adie- de-camp,
CHAPTER LHI.
a military honeymoon.
On the day after assuming my command at Scylla, I
ordered out the • little garrison in heavy marching order,
and found it to consist of picked young fellows of my own
regiment, 250 file, with five officers. This small party,
with the garrisons at Reggio and Crotona, Amanthea and
Monteleone, formed the whole force left in Calabria, with
orders to defend their several posts to the last extremity.
The last four places were held by Italians alone.
I found that every means had been taken to render the
famous rock, and the stronghold of the race of Ruffo, yet
more impregnable. In place of the princely cardinal's
banner, our gaudy union spread its scarlet folds to the
wind, the mighty breach—to me the scene of an adventure
never, never to be forgotten—was now closed up, and a
strong stone bastion, surmounted by six iron twenty-four-
pounders, frowned grimly in its stead.
We were often visited by Santugo and his bride; he
belonged to the Reggio garrison, which was commanded
by the prince of St. Agata. My brother officers were all
agreeable men, and the time passed very pleasantly.
Bianca's residence shed quite a halo over the formal bar-
rack and rugged castello, which was enlivened by a con-
tinual round of fair visitors from Fiumara, Reggio, and
the neighbouring villas. Those gay subs who had looked
forward with repugnance to detachment duty in the
gloomy castle of Cardinal Ruffo, became delighted with
the station and the gaiety of the entertainments. The
towers rang perpetually with the dulcet voices of Italian
girls, the twangling of mandolins, or the notes of the
piano. Every evening, the hall—where the ambitious car-
dinal had formed his deep-laid schemes of political in-
trigue, where his mailed ancestors had drunk " the red
wine through the helmet barred," and where the Norman
knight and Saracen emir had met hand-to-hand in deadly
strife—was the scene of a waltz or quadrille party, or rang
to the mad and merry tarantella, the modern remnant of
the ancient bacchanalian dance. Never, since the days
A MILITARY HONEYMOON.
397
of Faunus, Saturn's fabled son, Ausonia's oldest king-,
had the rock of Scylla witnessed such a continuance of
festivity.
Amid this joyous career, we had all a narrow escape
from malice and treason.
One evening, Gask appeared with a very long face, and
informed me that the castle well had been poisoned, for
the purpose of destroying us all. Twenty men lay sick in
hospital, and a cry of rage went through the whole castle.
"Poisoned—O, lord!" cried Gascoigne, who was with
me at the time, and snatching up a decanter of brandy,
he nearly drained it at one gulp. Gask had seen a man in
the garb of the Compagnia di Morti prowling about the
margin of the well, whom we had no doubt was the per-
petrator of the villany. While I was making inquiries
and despatching parties in pursuit of him, Oliver Lascelles
entered my room with a drawing in his hand.
Oliver was an artist, and a complete enthusiast in Italian
scenery, and still more so in Italian women; every
moment stolen from duty, was devoted to the pencil, and
many of his warmly-tinted sketches, done in a masterly
manner, are at this moment in my portfolio. I have often
admired his coolness, when, under a heavy fire, he has
seated himself to sketch the enemy's position, a striking
ruin, a fallen column, or piece of ancient' sculpture, from
which his sword had scraped the moss.
" Behold a portrait of our friend of the Compagnia di
Morti," said he, displaying his drawing. " I saw the
rogue seated by the fountain, and admiring his picturesque
costume, and his striking countenance, with well-knit
brows, the eyes deep set in the head, and having that
determined scowl which is esteemed so classic, I gave the
fellow a ducat to sit; so here you have his features fairly
done in crayon."
" The scoundrel! they are those of Navarro, the Italian
engineer, who deserted to the French, after assassinating
the Maltese knight, in mistake for me. He is no doubt
employed by Massena as a spy upon us. By heaven,
Lascelles, if I had the rascal here I think I could pistol
him this instant
" That would make a spirited sketch, too; but he can-
not be far off, and Gask, with his party, will probably
capture him."
2 D
398 ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
I resolved to liold a drum-head court-martial on him the
moment he fell into our hands, and promised twenty
guineas to his capturer. But we saw him no more, for a
time, at least; and, to prevent such attempts in future, I
placed a sentinel at the fountain, which, after a time,
became purified. Macnesia's skill saved the twenty sol-
diers, who were brought almost to the brink of the grave ;
they had all narrowly escaped death, as a quantity of
acquetta was found in the water, when Macnesia ana-
lyzed it.
To expatiate on the happiness I enjoyed at Scylla,
would be too common-place, and I have a great press of
other matter to relate. Humours of Massena's advance
from Cassano, and the retreat and dispersiofi of the chiefs
of the Masse, spread dismay through all the lower pro-
vince, and roused us from our short dream of pleasure.
All families of rank again returned to Palermo, but a few
spirited cavaliers retired to the savage fastnesses of the
lolls, where the brave paesani and wild banditti made
common cause against the invader. The arrival of a
detachment of the royal artillery, brought from Messina,
by the Delight, and a despatch from Major-General Sher-
brooke, directing me to " defend Scylla, while one stone
stood upon another," caused me to make the most strenU-
ous preparations for a vigorous Resistance, beifrg anxious
to render myself worthy of the important trust reposed
in me—the defence of the key of the Italian Peuirisula.
The presence of Bianca was the only damper to my
ardour, for I anticipated with dread the dangers to
which she would be exposed, when the coming strife closed
around us; but to my earnest entreaties that she would
join her aunt and the young viscontessa, who had retired
to Carolina's court at Palermo, she answered only by her
tears and entreaties, that I would not send her away, but
permit her to share all the perils to which I might be ex-
posed. Poor girl! little knew she of war, and the mani-
fold horrors of a protracted siege, or a fortress carried by
assault • but to resist her charming entreaties was impos-
sible, and my anxiety increased as the distance between us
and the enemy lessened. How marriage spoils the esprit
du corps ! Every officer and private of the 62nd looked
forward with ardour and hope, and I felt the old reckless
spirit rising, notwithstanding the fears, that oppressed
me.
wreck "or the "delight."
399
The daily arrival of couriers from the Masse* and from
the armed cavaheri on the mountains, the telegraphing of
despatches to and fro with Messina, the hourly training
of soldiers at the batteries, the visiting of giiards, which
were doubled at night, and all the eternal hubbub created
by the near approach of the foe, kept me fully Occupied ;
and never, even when teuanted by the martial cardinal,
had Scylla witnessed such military bustle and excite-
ment.
Advices soon reached us, that General Regnier had in-
vested the castle of Crotona, Which, after a bold defence
by the Free Calabri, had been compelled to capitulate,
when the heavy battering-train of the French opened on
its decayed fortifications. All Naples was exasperated by
the intelligence, that the gallant Cavaliere del Castagno
had been hanged as a traitor, by orders of Regnier, whose
forces, eager to revenge the triumph of Maida, marched
rapidly by the shores of the Adriatic ; they crossed the
mountains at Francavilla, fighting, every inch of the Way
with the Masse, and the bold comrades of Francatripa,
FraDiavolo,Benincasa, andMammone, and reached Monte-
leone, which the Italians abandoned, and once more the
tricolour of the Buonapartists was triumphantly hoisted on
its ramparts.
CHAPTER LIY.
wreck or the "delight."
TowaeDs the end of December, the French had pushed
forward as far as Seminara, and, by the concentration of
troops, and a train Of heavy ordnance at that place, I had
no doubt that preparations were making to besiege the
castle of Scylla. Every exertion was made by the loyalists
to prevent the carriage of cannon into that corner of Cala-
bria ; working-parties of soldiers and armed peasants were
continually employed in trenching and barricading the
roads, and rendering the passes of the Solano impracticable,
thus making every approach down from the hills of Milia
as difficult as possible.
Along these heights and passes, I stationed strong
bodies of armed Calabrese, intrusting the defence of the
2 d 2
400
ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Solano to the Cavaliere di Casteluccio, who, since his
escape, had distinguished himself on a thousand occasions ;
so miraculous were his adventures, that the superstitious
provincials believed he had been rendered bullet-proof by
the witches of Amato. But so overwhelming was the
force of Regnier, that all attempts to bar the passage of
his train proved, ultimately, unavailing.
On the last day of that eventful year, the glitter of arms
and the pale white smoke of musketry were seen spread-
ing over the Milia hills, between the peaks of which the
morning sun poured down his strong and ruddy light on
the scene i of contest. The drums beat, and we got under
arms. Our Calabrian out-piquets and fatigue-parties
were driven down from the mountains by three battalions
of Trench infantry, led by General Milette, and were pur-
sued by four squadrons of hussars, until close under cover
of our twenty-four-pounders.
Regnier was now in complete possession of those im-
portant heights, and Ms working-parties were daily and
nightly employed in repairing or forming roads for the
conveyance of their battering-train from Seminara. Their
operations were retarded ana rendered perilous by the in-
cessant attacks of the followers of Casteluccio and Fran-
catripa; but a damper was given to our zeal by the sur-
render of a numerous garrison at Reggio, where an Italian
force, under the prince of St. Agata, capitulated, after a
brief resistance. The castle of St. Amanthea, a property
of the prince di Bisignano, was captured by assault, after
a desperate defence, by the gay Captain Piozzi; he was
slain by a cannon-ball, and thus the fair and fickle Despina
was once more left a widow. On—on pressed the foe. The
banner of Ferdinand IV. had sunk from every rampart in
Calabria, save the solitary stronghold of Scylla. We found
ourselves alone, and could hope for little from resistance,
as all the forces of
Every night the sky was streaked with fire, showing
where Favazina, Fiumara, San Batello, and many a ham-
let were given to the flames, after being ravaged by the
foragers of the enemy, and every breeze bore past us the
cries of slaughtered men, and the shrieks of miserable
women.
orders to capture
blood.
"WRECK OE THE "DELIGHT."
401
The fall of Reggio was first announced to us by seeing
Santugo's battalion of the Calabri retreating upon Scylla,
in solid square, pursued by cavalry, and galled by three
curricle-guns, which followed them at a gallop, and were
discharged from every eminence that afforded an opportu-
nity of sending a shot into the retiring column; on its
arrival, it occupied the half-ruined town below us.
Shortly afterwards, four Sicilian gun-boats, each carry-
ing a twenty-four-pounder in its bow, were captured by
the enemy, close by Scylla; and these cannon were landed,
and added to the train against the fortress. The moment
it was known they had fallen into Regnier's hands, the
Delight sloop of war, commanded by Captain Hanfield,
stood close in shore, to recapture tfiem, and we watched
her operations, from the ramparts, with the greatest
interest.
Although the last day of December, it was a beautiful
evening, and the golden Straits were gleaming in the
light of the setting sun, then verging through a sky of
the purest azure, towards the green and lofty mountains
which rise behind the spires and towers of Messina. The
Drench beached the gun-boats in succession ; and, covered
by field-pieces and surrounded by squadrons of cavalry,
we feared the sailors of the Delight would never cut them
out or destroy them. Protected by the ship's broadside,
three well-armed boats put off from her, and pulled
shoreward, with the gallant intention of spiking the gun-
boats' artillery, at all risks.
Dire flashed incessantly from the red port-holes of the
Delight, and the white smoke of her cannon, rising
through her taut rigging in fantastic curls, rolled away
over the still bosom of the glassy Straits. The shot of
the French field-pieces fell in a shower round her advan-
cing boats ; and wherever a ball plunged into the bright
ocean, a pillar of liquid, like a water-spout, reared into
the air with a hollow roar. A dozen of those crystal
columns shot up their foamy heads at every moment, as
the sailors pulled steadily towards the beach. In the
headmost boat waved a large union-jack; and beside it,
in the stern-sheets, sat Hanfield, waving his sword and
cheering on his men. Close in his wake came the other
boats, crowded with red and blue jackets, and glittering
with boarding-pikes, bayonets, and cutlasses; while the
glistening blades of the feathered oars flashed like silver
402 ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
in the sunlight, as they rose and fell in measured time,
shooting the swift boats onward.
. Crowding on the ramparts, the 62nd cheered, and threw
their caps into the air. A response arose from the deck
of the distant sloop, when lo! a most unlooked-for mis-
fortune took place. Scylla, that place of horror and
mystery to the ancient mariner, and before whose "yawn-
ing dungeon" iEneas and Ulysses quailed with terror,
was still fraught with danger. Under a press of canvas,
the Delight sailed obliquely, to keep company with her
boats; there was a stiff breeze blowing straight from
Sicily, and she stood close along shore, with every inch
of her snowy canvas filled, when we beheld her shaken
by a tremendous shock; her stately masts shook like
wallow wands, her long pendant fluttered, her broad sails
shivered in the breeze, and she careened suddenly over.
An exclamation burst from every lip.
"Ashore !" cried the soldiers, with sorrow and dismay,
as her tall fore-topmast fell overboard; the main and the •
mizen followed it with a hideous crash; the beautiful
vessel, which a moment before had been sailing so smoothly
and swan-like, so trimly and saucily, lay a dismasted
wreck, bulged on a sunken rock within a few furlongs
of the beach, with her lee-guns buried in the water,
and all her seamen and marines who were not flounder-
ing in the wreck around her, clinging to her windward
bulwarks.
A triumphant vivat ! burst from the enemy, who plied
their field-pieces with redoubled ardour ; and a cry, loud,
fierce, and hoarse, answered from the English boats.'
The oarsmen paused, and the utmost confusion took
place; there seemed a doubt whether to advance to the
attack, or return to the assistance of their drowning mess-
mates. Exasperated by the wreck of his dashing vessel,
and filled with a desire for vengeance, the gallant Hanfield
(an officer of great professional knowledge, and high indi-
vidual worth) ordered the boats to advance, but his efforts
were fruitless. His craft were soon crippled by the French
cannon-shot and grape, which killed or wounded the
majority of his force before it came near the Sicilian
prizes. Hanfield, with many of his sailors, was killed,
and Captain Seccombe, of the Glatton frigate, who hap-
pened to be on fboard the Delight, received a severe
wound, of which he died a few days after. The boats5
the voltigeubs.—the massacre oe bagnara. 403
crews were all captured; and those men on the wreck
went off in two remaining boats, to save themselves from
the same fate. To prevent Regnier from using the cannon
remaining in the-Delight, in prosecution of the siege, the
moment it was dark enough, I left the sea-staircase, in a
boat, with ten soldiers, and setting fire to the vessel,
burned her to the water's edge; so ended this catastrophe,
which shed a gloom over us all for some time.
CHAPTER LY.
the voltigeubs.—the massacre of bagnara.
Il Cavaliere di Casteluccio, •some of whose followers
still hovered about the Solano, having sent me accurate
information of the position and arrangement of Regnier's
outpost at Bagnara—the point nearest to us in his pos-
session, and held by the voltigeurs of the 23rd (French)
light infantry—I concerted a plan to form a junction with
the cavaliere's Free Company, and cut off' that detach-
ment, as the castle had been quite blocked up on every
side since Regnier had pushed his advanced parties as far
south as Bagnara and Favazina.
On a misty night in the month of February, an hour
after tattoo-beat, I marched out one hundred rank and
' file (more, indeed, than could be spared from my small
garrison), and was joined by three times that number of
the Free Calabri, led by Santugo. Guided by the distant
watchfires of General Milette's piquets, which formed a
fiery chain along the Milia heights, we moved by the
most unfrequented paths and gorges; the last were nu-
merous enough, as the whole country bore traces of that
terrible convulsion of nature, which, twenty-four years
before, engulfed Bagnara and three thousand of its
inhabitants. Hideous scaurs and chasms rent in the
sandstone rocks and salt-hills, together with the banks of
vapour exhaled from the marshes, completely screened our
movements from the enemy, scattered parties of whom
watched the operations of the banditti and the Masse (a
force now rapidly melting away), who were apt at all
times to beat up their quarters. The system of perpetual
harassing was vigorously maintained, to prevent the forma-
404
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
tion of roads for the conveyance of their battering-train
towards the scene of the intended siege.
After a time, the night became so dark that the visconte
was doubtful which was the way, as the dense vapour
rolling down from the mountains cast a double gloom over
everything. Opening the door of a wretched hut, I found
an old crone, who dealt in spells and love-potions, spread-
ing her shrivelled hands over the expiring embers of a few
dried sticks.
"Beware, excellency, the hag is a sorceress!" said
Giacomo, as I entered.
" Signora," said I, unheeding his caution, "we are in
want of a guide to the olive-wood of Bagnara; can you
procure us one for the service of Ferdinand and la
Santa FedeP"
I glanced at her son, or grandson, a boy about fifteen,
a model of that bloom and symmetry so common in the
youth of Spain and Italy ; he was almost naked, or clad
only in skins. " Go thou, Pablo," said the crone.
" Ahi ! madre," said he, shrinking back, " like my father,
I may be shot by the French."
" Via—away!" she replied, sternly. The strict filial
obedience exacted by the ancients yet existed in these
remote provinces ; so, taking his knife and pole, the youth
at once prepared to accompany us.
Guided by him, we reached the neighbourhood of Bag-
nara about midnight, and halted in an olive-wood, situ-
ated on an eminence above the town; it was then reduced
to a few cottages, occupied by the voltigeurs, who had
taken all the usual means to render their post as strong
as possible, by loop-holing the walls, to enfilade the ap-
proaches, and barricading the ends of the little street
with trees, furniture, brushwood, and banks of earth.
" Chi e la?" cried a sonorous voice from the wood, as
we entered it.
" Italia," answered the first file of our advanced guard,
and the Cavaliere di Casteluccio rode up at the head of
his company of volunteers, all bold athletic fellows,
armed with rifles and poniards, and carrying their ammu-
nition in leather pouches or large buffalo-horns.
Below us, in Bagnara, all was still; the poor doomed
soldiers slept soundly; not a light twinkled, not a sound
broke the silence, save the rustle of the leafless trees, or
the dash of the lonely sea as it rolled on the shingly
THE VOLTIGEURS.—THE MASSACRE OE BAGNARA. 405
beach. At times a red light shot across the sky to the
westward ; it rose from the peak of Stromboli, in the dis-
tant isles of iEolus. We held a council in the olive-grove,
before advancing.
" Signor Casteluccio, be so good," said I, " as to describe
the enemy's post."
" The voltigeurs are six hundred strong, and commanded
by a Colonel Pepe "
" Any relation of Don Pepe ?" asked the visconte,
laughing.
" A tall, lantern-jawed fellow, with a scar over the left
eye," said the-cavaliere.
" The same," said I: "we have met before."
" He occupies the house of the podesta, a stone building,
well loop-holed and barricaded; the approach to it is
defended by three twelve-pounders, which sweep the
principal street, and are always loaded with round and
tin-case shot. A hundred voltigeurs garrison the house ;
the others are quartered in those adjoining; and the
defensive arrangements are such, that they can all act in
concert, and, like a star-fort, the post gives a cross fire at
every angle."
" The safest approach?"
" Is from the seaward. There a deep rut leads directly
from the shore to the town; thick foliage overhangs it,
under which we can advance unseen. A single sentinel
guards the point—the night is dark—you comprehend
me ?" added the cavaliere, smiling grimly, as he touched
one of those villanous stilettoes, which his countrymen
were never without.
" Ay, Signor Paolo," I replied; "once in, we will do very
well; but as the voltigeurs sleep with their muskets
loaded and their belts on, they will start to arms the mo-
ment the sentinel fires his piece."
" But he must be disposed of," said Santugo, coolly.
" G-iacomo!"
His factotum appeared immediately.
"A Prench sentinel occupies the ravine, through which
we must advance undiscovered. He must not fire: you
will see to this, as you value life."
G-iacomo bowed intelligently, and was withdrawing,
when the voice of Gascoigne arrested him.
"You murdering villain, come here! what the devil—
will you permit this piece of rascality, Dundas ? "
406 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
" Assuredly not! " said I, dismounting from Cartouche.
" I am an English officer, and not an assassin!" said
Lascelles, in great wrath.
"You have both only anticipated me," I replied,
" Santugo, we cannot permit the poor soldier to be slain
in a manner so dastardly. No ! I would rather advance
under the hottest fire of musketry, than consent to it;
my own soldiers at least will follow me." A murmur of
assent rose from the 62nd.
" Cospetto ! " exclaimed Santugo, impatiently; " and to
save the life of this paltry voltigeur, who will perhaps be
shot afterwards, you may sacrifice all our lives and the
success of the expedition."
" I understand the scruples of our friends," replied
Casteluccio; " and will undertake that, in ten minutes,
Signor Dundas will have the voltigeur beside him, safe
and sound; unless, indeed, he makes a great resistance;
in which case, X cannot assure you of my being very
patient."
In three columns we moved to the attack. Santugo.
with his corps marched on one flank of the post; the,
cavaliere, with his Eree Company, on the other; with my
hundred men, I chose the central point of assault by the
gorge; and the report of the first volley was to be the
signal for the onset. Luckily for us, a thick white vapour,
rolling from the sea, enveloped all Bagnara, veiling our
movements completely ; the enemy had not the remotest
suspicion of our vicinity. My soldiers were in fight march-
ing order, with sixty rounds of ammunition. We went
down the hill double quick, and entered the gorge softly,
in sections of threes. Casteluccio accompanied us, to
seize the sentinel; but I had little reliance to place on the
successful fulfilment of his promise.
" The sentinel once captured, we will rush upon them
like a herd of wolves ; and the massacre of Bagnara shall
five in Calabrian story, like the Sicilian vespers of old! "
said the cavaliere, in a low, hoarse tone. His eyes sparkled;
he drew his poniard, and stole from my side towards the
unsuspecting voltigeur, whom we discerned about fifty
yards from where my party halted. Under the shade of
afofiaged cliff, hestoodmotionless, with his musket ordered,
and his eyes bent on the ground. His voice alone broke
the intense stillness of his post, and had he been less oc-
cupied with his own thoughts, he must undoubtedly have
THE -VOLTIGEURS.—THE MASSACBE OF BAGNAIIA. 4Q7
seen us; but tbe mind of the poor Swiss conscript was
perhaps far away where his mother's vine-clad chalet
looked down on the vale3 and cataracts of his native canton.
Sadly and slowly he hummed the pastoral " Ranz des
vaches," and saw not the foe, who, crouching like a lynx,
with one hand on his lip and the other on his weapon,
stole softly towards him. I waited the issue with anxiety.
" Silenzio! " exclaimed the strong cavalier, in a fierce
whisper, as he grasped the sentry by the throat. The
poor Swiss boy (for he was but a boy, after all) understood
not the word; but the sudden stifling grasp, and the sight
of the glittering bastia poniard, almost deprived him of his
faculties; taken completely by surprise, he dropped his
musket, and was dragged among us, a prisoner.
" Signor, I have redeemed my promise," said the breath-
less Paolo. " May this be an omen of what is to follow! "
Hp sprang up the rugged face of the gorge to rejoin his
party, while mine moved forward double quick. Leading
the way, sabre in hand, I scrambled over a bank of earth,
a strong wicket in which led to the guard-house. We
were provided with sledge-hammers, and the noise of
breaking it down brought out the guard: they fired, and
two soldiers fell dead beside me; we answered by a volley,
and the whole cantonment was alarmed in a moment.
With the charged bayonet and clubbed musket, we rushed
upon the guard, which we overwhelmed and captured in a
moment.
" Lascelles, take twenty men, and beat down the Semi-
nara gate : Santugo will enter that way. Off, double
quick!"
The surprise was so complete, that the resistance we
encountered on every hand was faint: the guards were
overpowered, the avenues beaten open, and the fierce fol-
lowers of the visconte and Cavaliere Paolo spread like a
pack of famished hounds over the little town; slaying all
they met, without mercy or remorse.
ffhe party occupying the podesteria gave us more trouble
than we had expected. I saw Colonel Pepe, in his shirt
and trousers, rush from the door to the three field-pieces,
which he discharged in rapid succession, and their canister
shot did terrible execution among the dense column of
Calabrians rushing up the street. Ere he regained the
door, a shot from a rifle arrested him; he tossed his arms
wildly above his head, and then fell backwards a corpse.
408 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
The entrance was closed and barricaded, and a close and
destructive fire was opened from every window, and tliose
countless loop-holes with which the walls had been hastily
perforated: flashes, smoke, and half-naked men were seen
at every aperture; and the gleams of the musketry illumi-
nated the whole place.
Aware that not a moment was to be lost, as the cavalry
at Seminara or the piquets of Milette would be all under
arms at the sound of the first shot, I resolved that a
vigorous attempt should be made to storm the podesta's
house, which, from its size and strength, had become the
principal keep or stronghold of the enemy. Desiring
Gascoigne, with a suitable party, to collect as many pri-
soners as possible, I led forward my own immediate
command. Our approach was completely enfiladed by
the adjoining houses, from which the French poured forth
a fire with such destructive precision and rapidity, that in
a few minutes the street presented a horrible spectacle,
being heaped with killed and wounded, whose blood crim-
sonedthe gutters on both sides of the way. Directing
Santugo to assail the house in rear, Casteluccio and I led
on a mixed force of British and Calabri; but so terrible
was the leaden hail the French showered on three sides of
us, that we were repulsed with immense slaughter: the
cavaliere received a severe wound in the sword-arm ; yet
lie quitted not the ground, but brandishing his sabre with
his left hand, continued to animate his followers by his
presence and cries of " Viva Ferdinand IV! "
Again I led forward the remnant of my party, and again
we were forced to recoil, but succeeded in bringing off one
of the curricle-guns ; with a wild shout of triumph it was
wheeled round, double shotted, and discharged against the
house.
" Hurrah!" cried I, almost frantic with excitement,
ramming home another ball with my own hand. " Bravo !
Gask, keep your hand tight on the vent—ready the match—
stand clear of the recoil—fire ! " and again it belched forth
destruction. Thrice it was fired, and thrice the shot struck
the same place; an enormous rent yawned in the wall,
and a mass of masonry fell to the earth: yet the French
fought with undiminished courage. The side of a room
had been completely breached.
" Forward the 62nd! Advance the Calabri! On them
with the bayonet-—charge—hurrah ! " Animated by my
THE VOLTIGEUES.—THE MASSACBE OF BAGNAEA. 409
example, and, notwithstanding the deadly fire poured on
them from every part, onward they went, with that heroic
ardour which soon after swept the armies of Napoleon
from the fields of Spain and Flanders. We burst in
amongst the voltigeurs, whose diminutive stature placed
them at the utmost disadvantage, when opposed to English
soldiers and the tall, athletic Calabri in the fierce hand-to-
hand combat which ensued. A desperate struggle followed.
For a time the podesteria seemed shaken to its base, and
in the close melee I received a severe blow from a clubbed
musket: but the voltigeurs yielded themselves prisoners
of war in five minutes ; and my soldiers immediately en-
circled them, to protect them from the knives and bayonets
of the infuriated Italians.
In the despatch of General Sherbrooke it is mentioned,
that "in the night attack on Bagnara, the voltigeurs of
the 23rd light infantry were cut to pieces." This was
literally the case : so merciless were the Calabrese, that a
great number of the poor Frenchmen were slaughtered in
their beds (a blanket, a great coat, or a bundle of fern),
and no wounded man escaped them. Of Colonel Pepe's
600 voltigeurs, 450 lay, like himself, weltering in blood,
in the streets and houses of Bagnara. I did all that man
could do, short of assaulting the Calabrians, to stop the
horrid slaughter; but my efforts were unavailing, and the
blood of these brave men was poured forth like water:
the soldiers of the 62nd revolted at such cold-blooded
cruelty, and expressed their indignation aloud. The poor
remnant of the 23rd were moody and silent, cast down in
spirit and pale in visage, ragged and half naked, when I
paraded them outside the town, just as the grey daylight
brightened the Milia peaks, and the sea began to change
its hue from inky grey to sparkling blue, as it rolled on
the rocky promontories of Scylla and Palmi. Our casual-
ties were numerous : but one officer, a hundred and fifty
rank and file, and three pieces of cannon were the prizes
of the night. To gain these, four hundred and fifty of
their comrades had been destroyed; and almost in cold
blood, too!
410
adventures op an aide-de-camp.
CHAPTER LVI.
retreat in square.—the prisoner op "war.
Borne on the morning breeze from Seminar a, the distant
sound of a cavalry trumpet warned us to retire with pre-
cipitation. "We spiked the guns, blew up the tumbrils,
and, setting the town on fire, soon destroyed all of Bagnara
that the last earthquake had left unengulfed. Lighted by
the red blaze which the burning houses cast on the green
hills, the dark pine-woods, and the impending masses of
basaltic rock frowning over mountain-streams and deep
defiles, we continued our retreat double-quick, without the
aid of our little 'guide, Pablo, who, at sound of the first
shot, had vanished, without waiting for his promised
reward.
" Hark to the tantara of the trumpets! Milette's
cavalry brigade is coming on," said Santugo, checking his
black Barbary horse and listening to the distant sound.
As he spoke, French cavalry appeared on the Seminara
road, galloping in file along the narrow way by which we
were hurrying towards Scylla, whose ramparts we dis-
cerned above the morning mist, about three miles off.
The rising sun gleamed gaily on the long lines of shining
helmets and glancing sabres, as the horsemen swept
through the deep dell in close pursuit. • The fire of Cas-
teluccio's volunteers, who formed our rear-guai*d, served
to keep them in check for a time, and impede their advance,
by the fall of steeds and their riders ; but on our debouche-
ment into more open ground, I formed the whole into a
compact square, with the prisoners in the centre. The
cavalry now pushed on at a furious gallop, and, as they
cleared the gorge, the trumpeters sounded in succession
" form squadronthe right files trotted, while the left
swept round at full speed; and, the moment each troop
formed, it rushed upon us with a force and impetuosity
which must have stricken terror into the Calabrese : but
the proud troopers recoiled before the levelled bayonets
and steady fire of a few brave men of my own corps, who
formed the rearward face of the square.
Successively the six squadrons of a whole corps of light
cavalry swept after us, and successively they were com-
pelled to break into subdivisions, and retire to the right
RETREAT IN SQUARE.—THE TRISONER OF WAR. '411
and left, round the flanks of their coluntn, while the next
hi order advanced to the charge. They suffered severely;
both horses and riders lay rolling in heaps, while we lost
not a man, as the troopers never fired their pistols; pro-
bably to spaTe their countrymen who were our prisoners.
Just as a brigade of horse-artillery came at a gallop from
the dell, and were wheeled round on an eminence, to Open
upon us, we gained the shelter of a pine-thicket, and in
perfect safety retired leisurely upon Scylla.
Casteluccio's band—whose retreat to their fastnesses in
the Solano the advance of Milette's cavalry had com-
pletely cut off—I added to the garrison of the town.
The wound of the brave cavaliere was severe, and a
musket-ball had broken his left arm. Our SUrgeon,
Macnesia, reduced the fracture; but the patient was
quite unserviceable, ahd therefore retired for a time to
Messina.
After the transmission of our prisoners and wounded to
the same place, in the boats of the Electra frigate, I
gladly retired to my quarters, where the joy and tender-
ness of Bianca soon made me forget the excitement and
weariness of the past night. That evening the mist,
which had all day hovered Over land and sea, cleared
away, - when we plainly saw the French working-parties
on the mountains, forming the road from Seminara,
under the protection of strong escorts of cavalry and
infantry.
i Occasionally a puff of white smoke, curling from the
brow of a cliff or from a neighbouring thicket, and an
immediate commotion among the fenemjr, announced a
sudden shot from a concealed Calabrian rifle, which had
struck one from the roll of the soldiers of the empire.
Banditti, and broken parties of the Masse, stuck like burrs
in the skirts of the French; and the loss of life occa-
sioned by such desultory warfare was immense.
Bianca shuddered as she surveyed the distant foe and
glanced at the castle batteries below Us, where, in regular
order, stood the long lines of iron twenty-fours and
thirty-twos, with all the accompaniments of rammers,
sponges, and handspikes; pyramids of balls occupying
the spaces between. The glittering bayonets shone on
every bastion and angle; while the numerous sentinels,
and the hourly rounds of the watchful commanders of
guards, "denoted an alertness and excitement, a vicinity
412 ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
of warfare, equally appalling and novel to her. Whilst we
were watching all these preparations, a little drummer
beat the warning for the " evening retreat;" the sharp
rattle of his drum agitated Bianca so much, that she hurst
into tears, and, sinking on my shoulder, exclaimed, " Oh,
Claude! would to God we were safe at Palermo! All
this is indeed terrible."
"All this!" I reiterated. " Faith! Bianca, I see
nothing terrible here. The guards on the alert, the
cannon in order, the duty carried on strictly, all bespeak
the orderly garrison. But if the mere sight of these things
and the clatter of that little boy's drum affright you,
think what will be your terrors when yonder hill bristles
with brigades of cannon, vomiting death and fire; when
every point around us glitters with steel, and even the
roar of Dragara is lost in that of the conflict; when men
are falling like ripe grapes in a storm, and the shot flying
thick as hail, rending battlement and tower. Oh! think
of all these dangers, dear one"; and, once more, let me
entreat you—implore you, to retire to Messina. Consent,
Bianca; and I will this moment order a gun to fire for
the Electro's boat."
" And you counsel me to leave you so soon ?" said she,
bending her soft eyes on mine.
" Your gentle mind cannot conceive the horrors of a
siege. Scylla I must defend to the last, for such are my
orders ; but how long can such a little fortress withstand
the mighty army of Massena ? Our separation, Bianca,
can only be for a time "
" Caro Claude, for a time—but how long ? You may
be taken prisoner and carried to Don Pepe's dungeons in
Dalmatia, and I may never see you again. When I think
of poor Benedetto's fate—oh, horror! Say no more,
Claude ; death only shall separate us."
The entrance of Bob Brown or Annina (they now com-
posed our entire household) put an end to this pathetic in-
terview. Bianca smiled through her tears, and looked so
beautiful and happy, and love made me so selfish, that I
said no more of her retiring to Sicily.
The evening was sunny and still, the air serene, and the
sea calm, except around the rock of Scylla. The green
Sicilian shore rose up, clearly and distinctly, from the
azure ocean, and the sails of the Amphion, the Electro,
the Glatton, the Pompey, and all our numerous war-ships
RETREAT IN SQUARE.—THE PRISONER OF WAR. 413
which studded the Straits, shone white as snow in the
sunbeams; while Sicilian gun-boats, slave-galleys, and
xebecques dotted the sea between ; the cloudless sky, and
the range of hills which terminates at the Faro, formed
the background. Our casements were open, and the
setting sun poured his bright rays into the castle-hall, the
roof of which was covered with the dilapidated frescoes of
Matteo Prette, and the faded coats armorial of the princes
of Ruffo Scylla. It was a noble relic of other days.
Massive Ionic columns of Sicilian marble, with bases of
green Corsican jasper, rising from a tesselated floor, sup-
ported its arched roof; between these, in niches, were
some rare pieces of ancient sculpture, dug from the ruins
of the neighbouring Columna Bhegini; or, perhaps, relics
of that edifice which Anaxilaus, its prince, first raised on
the rock, to defend him against the warriors of Tuscany.
The early flowers of a warm Italian spring were blooming
in the balconies, and their sweet perfume was wafted
around us.
Bianca was seated at work, brocading a piece of scarlet
Palmi silk, while I lounged on a sofa, reading the last
" Gazetta Britannica ;" a silver caraffa of the cardinal's
muscadel stood close at hand, and I thought, while knock-
ing the ashes from my third cigar, that my situation on the
staff would be a very pleasant one, if Monsieur le General
Begnier contented himself by remaining intrenched at
Cassano, instead of beating up my quarters at the ex-
tremity of lower Italy.
A smart single knock at the door announced Serjeant
Gask.
" Mr. Lascelles has sent me to say, sir, that the officer
taken prisoner at Bagnara, who wished to be sent to
Palmatia on parole, appears to be an Italian."
"The rascal!" I exclaimed; "but perhaps he is a
Boman, or Venetian."
" He says the last, sir; but I could swear that he is a
Calabrian born and bred."
" Bring him here, with a file of the barrier guard, that
I may examine him myself."
Gask retired, and in five minutes returned with the
prisoner—a sullen and dogged-like fellow, wearing a plain
French uniform, blue, with scarlet facings, an aiguillette,
and shoulder-scales. He was swarthy, and his lank
moustaches gave him a melancholy aspect, while the
2 E
414
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
rolling of his restless eyes announced that he was very ill
at ease.
On his entrance with, the escort, Bianca withdrew.
Imagine my surprise, on recognizing Pietro Navarro, who
grew deadly pale on beholding me.
" Good evening ! Signor Navarro," said I; "I did not
expect to meet a descendant of the worthy inventor of
mines under circumstances so degrading."
" I am Pepe Biada, a Venetian, bearing a commission
in the artillery of the emperor. You are making some
mistake, signor, and I warn you to beware of reprisals.
A heavy brigade of guns is already en route for Scylla,
which cannot hold out a day against the forces now
marching on it—no, San Martino !—not a single day."
" San Marteeno ? ha ! the true Neapolitan twang, that,"
I exclaimed. " How many men are moving on this
point?"
" Six thousand, exclusive of artillery, horse, and sap-
pers," he answered, gruffly. " I demand, signor, as a.
Venetian in the service of the king of Italy, that I may
be permitted to retire, on my parole of honour." He
spoke boldly, and seemed to imagine that his information
had staggered me a little.
"You must first be examined by a military court-
martial. I have not forgotten that night when you
poniarded the brave cavaliere of Malta, in mistake for me.
On clearing yourself of that, and several other gross
misdemeanours, you will be transmitted to Sicily, to be
treated as the government shall deem fit. You will be
good enough to hand me your sabretache ? Take him
away, Gask, and guard him well—he deserves no mercy.
Give Captain Gascoigne my compliments—send him here,
and desire the orderly drum to beat for orders."
Navarro, finding that his assertions of innocence were
made to one who was too well convinced of his guilt, in
silence unbuckled his belt, threw it with the sabretache
towards me, and retired with his escort. Prom its bulk
and weight, I thought it contained something of im-
portance; but found only an Italian work on engineering,
by Donato Bosetta, the canon of Livournia, together with
a few sketches of forts and roads. One of these was im-
portant enough : it showed the castle of Scylla, with the
positions to be occupied by the French cannon; their pro-
the. deum-head couet-maetial. . ms
posed approaches and trenches were laid down, and our
weakest points were marked. This document was a fresh
cause for exasperation: from his knowledge of the fortress-
and its locality, Navarro must have been of the utmost
use to General Uegnier ; and I was determined to bring
him to trial without delay. My process was harsh; but
let the peculiar nature of my position, the power with
which I was vested, and Navarro's crimes, excuse it.
CHAPTEB LYII.
the dkttm-head cottbt-maetial.
I pabaded the whole of the little garrison, and ordering
a drum-head court to assemble immediately, wrote the
charges on which the prisoner was to be arraigned before
it: but I was interrupted by an outcry and combat in the
guard-house. Snatching the sword from Gask's belt, he
had attempted to stab lum, and break away by force; but
the soldiers beat him down with the butts of their muskets,
and he was secured with handcuffs, an iron bar, and a
padlock.
Formed in close column, the whole garrison, including
the Free Corps of Santugo (who, although their lieutenant-
colonel was, oddly enough, under my orders), paraded to
hear and behold the proceedings. So exasperated were
the Calabri, that the presence of British soldiers alone
prevented them from sacrificing the unhappy Navarro,
and thus destroying all that judicial form which I meant
to give to our proceedings.
In centre of the castle court was placed a drum, with
a Bible, pens, ink, and paper, upon it. The president
stood on one side, and the members on his right and left
hand ; Navarro, with his escort, stood opposite. I had to
act in the triple capacity of prosecutor, witness, and ap-
prover. The paper found attached to the poniard in
Castelermo's bosom, the likeness of Navarro, disguised
as one of the Compagnia di Morti, together with the
contents of his sabretache, I laid before the court for
examination.
Brief as the proceedings of such a tribunal always are,
2 e 2
416
adventures op an aide-de-camp.
ours were necessarily unusually so: a forward movement
was at that moment being made by the French cavalry,
and we were pressed for time. The following is a
literal transcript of the short and singular document
indited by Lascelles on that occasion: it is still in my
possession :—
" Proceedings of a drum-head court-martial, held on
Pieteo Navarro, late of the Sicilian Engineers, by
order of Captain Dundas, 62nd regiment, Commandant
of the Castle of Scylla.
" The court being duly sworn, and having weighed and
considered the evidence against the prisoner and his de-
fence, are of opinion that he, Pietro Navarro, is guilty of
the following charges :—
" First. Of assassinating Marco di Castelermo, a knight
commander of Malta, and captain of the Free Corps.
•' Second. Desertion to the enemy.
" Third. Conspiring with rebels to destroy the Villa
d'Alfieri.
" Fourth. Poisoning the well of H. M. castle of Scylla,
and thereby endangering the lives of the garrison.
" Sentence. To be shot or hanged, as the commandant
shall direct.
" Members.
" Pat. Gascoigne, Capt. 62nd Kegt. Pres.
" O. Lascelles, Lieut. 62nd Regt.
"Pelhah Villiers, Lieut. 62nd Regt.
" Conte d'Arena, Lieut. Free Corps.
" Conte di Palma, Lieut. Free Corps.
" Scylla, Feb. 1808."
To this I affixed my signature, with the fatal words
" confirmed—to he shot." Navarro grew pale as death
when I laid down the pen; and, as I gave the command,
forming the close column into a hollow square, by march-
ing it to the front and wheeling the subdivisions of the
central companies outward, he seemed to receive an electric
shock. He moved mechanically to the front, when I de-
sired Lascelles, who acted as our adjutant, to read the
brief proceedings. So flagrant were his crimes, that to
have yielded him one privilege as an officer, was not even
THE DRUM-HEAD COURT-MARTIAL.
417
to be thought of, and he was treated in every respect as
a private soldier.
Oliver read the proceedings and sentence, first in Eng-
lish, and then in Italian; Navarro listened with dogged
silence, knowing well that entreaties were useless if made
to the stern military tribunal before which he found him-
self so suddenly arraigned. His lip quivered, and his
brow blanched, when the last words " to be shot," fell upon
his ear, and he gave me a dull, inquiring stare, as I folded
the paper and thrust it into my sabretache. Though my
glance was firm and my voice never quavered, I felt for
the poor wretch, undeserving as he was. He hovered on
the brink of eternity, and my lips were to utter the com-
mand which would at once send him into the presence of
his Creator.
Mine—there was something terrible in the idea : I
paused for a moment; a beam of hope lightened his gloomy
eyes and brow. The place was so still, that one might
have heard a pin fall: but delay was cruel.
"Unhappy man! " said I, "you have heard the opinion
and sentence of the court. The latter must be carried
into execution in twenty minutes, and it would be well to
employ that little time in pure repentance, and in solemn
prayer."
" O, omnipotente!" he exclaimed, raising up his eyes
and fettered hands, "in twenty minutes, can so many
years of sin and enormity be repented of? O, San
Giovanni, thou, whose most holy order I have outraged!
O, San Marco the glorious ! Eufemio the martyred ! and
thou, sweetest Madonna! intercede for me with One whom
I am unworthy to address ! "
Deeply touched with his tone, I turned to Santugo:
but he was too much used to hear such pious ejaculations
on every frivolous occasion, to care a straw about them;
and, leaning on his sabre, he surveyed the culprit with a
stern glance of distrust and contempt.
" Down on your knees, villain! " he exclaimed, " and
pray with a will; for I fear you are standing on the brink
of eternal damnation! "
"O, horror!" cried Navarro; and, losing all self-pos-
session, he sank on his knees, and began to repeat his
pater-noster with great devotion.
" I regret that we have here no priest of the Catholic
church to attend you in this terrible hour," said I, " but
418 ADVEN.TTTKES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
yonder is a good and worthy soldier who has once been
in holy orders, and if his prayers "
" Away! " cried Navarro, as Gask took a Bible from his
havresack, and, laying his grenadier cap aside, advanced
towards him. "Better a Turk, than a Jew ; but, in such
an hour as this, better the devil than a heretic ! Away,
accursed! I spit upon you! I will trust rather to my
own prayers than thy intercessions "
. "I presume not to intercede," said poor Gask, meekly,
as he closed the Bible; "I am but an humble soldier,
though I have seen better days ; and I am a sinner, doubt-
less, though never committing sin wilfully. I entreat your
permission to accompany you in prayer, to soothe your
last moments, in such wise that, through the blessed mercy-
of the Lord of Hosts "
" Ghieu, setanasso! " screamed the assassin, quite be-
side himself; " away, heretic! Better the most ribald
monk of Pistoja than such as thee ! "
" Ball back, Gask ; the man is frantic," said I. " Tell
off a section, with their arms loaded ; desire the pioneers
to dig a grave in the cardinal's bastion, and their corporal
to bind up the prisoner's eyes."
■ Gask saluted, and retired to obey, while the prisoner,
covering his face with his fettered hands, appeared to be
engaged in the deepest prayer. The men of the 62nd
evinced considerable repugnance to become his execu-
tioners, such a duty being always reserved as a punishment
for bad or disorderly soldiers, and there was not one
among them who could be deemed to come under either
of these denominations. A whisper circulated through
the ranks, and I knew that I was imposing an unpleasant
duty upon good men. The visconte divined my dilemma,
" Dundas," said he, " as Italians, let ours be the task to
punish this wretch, whom I blush to acknowledge a country-
man ! Giacomo, take twenty of our corps, and shoot him
through the back ; but unbind his hands, that he may tell
over his beads once more before he dies."
Giacomo selected his marksmen, and drew them up
opposite a high wall, before which Navarro knelt, about
thirty paces from them. As the Calabrians loaded, two
pioneers with a shovel and pickaxe approached; and on
seeing them, the prisoner seemed seized with a frenzy.
Suddenly he sprang up, and fled towards a parapet-wall
with the fleetness of a hare, and a scene of the utmost con-,
THE DRUM-HEAD COURT-MARTIAL,
419
fusion ensued : sliot after sliot was fired at him, hut missed.
It was madness to hope to escape from Scylla, filled as it
was with armed men, enclosed on three sides by the surg-
ing sea, on the fourth by steep cliffs, and girdled by lofty
towers and bastions. Frantic with desperation and terror,
the miserable Navarro rushed up the platform of one of
the gun-batteries, and swung himself over the parapet,
escaping a shower of balls aimed at him by the half-
disciplined Calabri, who had all rushed in disorder to the
walls : destruction dogged him close. Beneath, the cliff
descended sheer to the sea three hundred feet below;
above, the parapet bristled with weapons, and was lined
with hostile faces. Chilled with a sudden horror, when
the dash of the foaming sea and the hollow boom of those
tremendous caverns by which the rock is pierced, rang in
his ears, he became stunned ; and, closing his eyes, clung
to a straggling vine, or some creeping plants, with all the
stern tenacity that love of life and fear of death inspire.
Never shall I forget the expression of his face when I
looked over the parapet upon him. It was ghastly as that
of a corpse : his short black hair bristled and quivered on
his scalp ; his deep dark eyes glared with terror, hatred,
and ferocity, till they resembled those of a snake; and
every muscle of his face was contracted and distorted. He
swung in agony over the beetling cliff, on which he en-
deavoured in vain to obtain a footing; but its face receded
from him, and he hung like a mason's plummet.
"G-iacomo," said the visconte, "end his misery."
The Calabrian levelled his musket over the breastwork,
and his aiming eye, as it glanced along the smooth barrel,
met the fixed and agonized glance of Navarro. He fired.
The ramparts round us, and the rocks and caves beneath,
gave back the reverberated report like thunder. The ball
had passed through the brain of Navarro, who vanished
from the cliff and was seen no more.
So perished this unhappy traitor.
420
adventuees of an aide-de-camp.
CHAPTER LVIII.
dianoea.—the foefeited hand.
The exciting affair with. Navarro was scarcely over,
before we became involved in another ; which, though of
a different description, caused me no little anxiety : of this,
my gay friend, Oliver Lascelles, was the hero.
Oliver was a handsome, good-humoured, light-hearted,
curly-headed, thoughtless, young fellow; heir to one of
the finest estates in Essex, with a venerable Elizabethan
manor-house and deer-park, a stud of horses, and a kennel
of hounds. He was a good shot, and a sure stroke at
billiards ; could push his horse wherever the hounds went,
and, when hunting, was never known to crane in his life :
he would spur, slap-dash over everything ; and he always
led the field. However, these were but the least of his
good qualities : he possessed others, that were of a better
order. Oliver was, every inch, an English gentleman and
soldier; possessing a refined taste, and more solid
acquirements than such as are necessary merely to
enable a man to acquit himself in fashionable or military
life: for, in truth, a very "shallow fellow" may pass
muster, at times, in the ball-room, on parade, or in the
hunting-field.
About this time, when Regnier's advance kept us all on
the alert, Oliver, as if he had not wherewithal to occupy
his thoughts, contrived to fall in love ; and, to all appear-
•ance, so earnestly, that I was not long in discovering and
rallying him about it. People are very prone to fall in
love in that land of bright eyes : the little god Cupid is
still "king of gods and men," in sunny Ausonia, where
love seems to be the principal occupation of the in-
habitants.
Though the advanced posts of the enemy were now
pretty close to us on all sides, our fiery spark, Lascelles,
went forth every evening to visit his innamorata, who dwelt
in the neighbourhood of Eiumara, which had now become
a French cantonment. I have elsewhere alluded to his
artistic talent: he had now conceived a violent fancy for
delineating Italian girls in all the glory of ruddy and
dimpled cheeks, dark eyes, braided hair, and very scanty
DIAN0KA.—THE FOEFEITED HAND.
421
petticoats. His apartments were strewed with such
sketches, and Bianca rallied him smartly, on finding that
the same pretty face was traceable in every drawing:
Oliver had, evidently, one vivid and particular idea ever
uppermost in his mind. He had a rival, too—a devil of a
fellow—who contrived to infuse an unusual quantum of
mystery into this love affair, all the perils of which I will
relate to the reader, while our friends, the French, are
labouring at the Seminara road, in order to bring up their
train of cannon.
" Where away so fast, Oliver P" asked I, as he was
hurrying past me, one evening, about dusk, muffled in his
cloak.
"Only a little way from the castle," he responded,
somewhat impatiently.
" Southward, eh ?"
"Ah—yes."
"To Fiumara?"
" Why—yes."
" Take care, Oliver, my boy! The French 101st, a
thousand strong, are cantoned there, and the end of this
nightly visiting may be a few years' unpleasant captivity
in Verdun or Bitche."
" Tush !" said he, impatiently ; "I have my sword and
pistols."
" So much the worse; they may only provoke the wrath
of your captors. 'Tis a pity your fair one, Signora Mon-
tecino (that's her name, I believe), lives in so dangerous a
vicinity."
" I am only going to visit the bishop of JNicastro."
"A shallow excuse, Oliver: you are not a man to relish
the old bishop's society. By the bye, his niece is very
pretty,—is she not ?"
" Bather," said he, drily.
" So much so, that you think her face cannot be deli-
neated too often."
" Stay, Claude, no quizzing: I won't stand it."
" She has a brother, or cousin, a sad fellow,—an out-
lawed guerilla, or something of that sort,—who has served
under Francatripa, and is stained with a thousand name-
less atrocities. And do you know what people say about
the pretty signorina herself?"
" What say they ?" he asked, sternly.
" That she is a nearer relation of the good padre
422
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
bishop, than he cares to have generally known: priests'
nieces "
" D n their impudence! only yourself, Claude—
Captain Dundas, I must request "
" O, yes, I understand all that: ha, ha!"
" No man in the service "
" What! do you really love this girl, Oliver ?"
" Yes; on my honour, I do."
"Very possibly: but,—I speak as an old friend,—you
do not mean seriously ?"
He started, and coloured deeply.
" I know not," he muttered, hurriedly: " and yet,
Claude, I cannot be so base as to think of her otherwise
than as a man of honour ought to do. Her relationship
to the old padre is, to say the best of it, somewhat
dubious ; but then, she is so good-tempered and ladylike—
so gentle, so beautiful, and winning, that I cannot, for
the soul of me, help loving her; and I pledged "
"Pledged! Maladetto! as they say here, are you engaged
to her?"
" Why, I did not make a particular—that is to say, not
quite an engagement—pshaw! what am I talking here
about?"
"I see! Ah, Oliver, you are evidently very deeply
dipped with her: you cannot steal a march upon me.
Let me advise you, Lascelles, to be cautious in your affair
with this young lady. Your family, your fortune, all
entitle you "
" Thanks, Dundas! I don't require this tutor-like
advice," said he, putting his foot in the stirrup of his
roan horse, with a dash of hauteur in his manner.
" At Fiumara, the French keep a sharp look-out," I
urged.
" Be it so," said he ; " thither I go, at all risks."
" You are not acting wisely."
" Granted—one never does so in love."
" Be cautious, Oliver! I would be loth to lose you, and
I .find it will be necessary to ' come the senior over vou,'
as the mess say, and order that no officer or soldier "shall
go beyond one mile from camp or quarters."
"Do so to-morrow," he added, laughing: "but, mean-
while, ere the order is issued, I shall ride so far as Fiumara
to-night. What is the parole ?"
DIANORA.—THE FORFEITED HAND.
423
" Maida—countersign, Italy."
" Thank you: I do not wish to be fired on by the blun-
dering Galabri," he replied, little imagining he would
never require the watchword. " Adieu! by midnight I
will return."
Breaking away, he leaped on his horse, and, dashing
through the arched portal of the castle, rode down the hill,
through Scylla, at a furious gallop. !
I was under considerable apprehension for my rash
friend's safety. Midnight passed—slowly the hours of
morning rolled on. Bay was breaking, and the peaks of
Milia were burnished by the yet unrisen sun, when I
visited the posts, to inquire for Lascelles. He had not
returned; and, as he had never before been absent so long
in such a dangerous neighbourhood, I became very uneasy:
deeply I regretted that, even at the risk of unpleasant
words, I had not exerted my authority as commanding
officer, and compelled him to stay within the castle. The
bugle, sounded for morning parade at the usual hour, but
Oliver Lascelles was not forthcoming—his place in the
ranks was vacant.
On the advance of the French, the old bishop, before
mentioned, had retired from the city of Nicastro, aban-
doning to them his residence—the ancient castle, famous
as the place where Henry of Naples expiated his rebel-
lion. [Retiring to his little paternal villa, near Fiumara,
he lived in retirement, unmolested by the French, who
almost depopulated the surrounding country by their
tyranny, extortions, and wanton outrage. On the side of
a hill, at the base of which ran a deep and rapid stream,
its banks covered with orange and citron-trees, stood the
bishop's villa. It faced the Straits of Messina: high rocks
and a thick wood of pines hid it from the view of the foe
at Fiumara, otherwise, their forage-parties would assuredly
have paid it a visit.
On the evening I last saw Oliver, a young lady was
visible at an open window of this mansion. She was
alone, and seated, in a reclining posture, on an ottoman,
upon which lay her guitar; her hair, half-braided, half-
disordered, rolled in natural ringlets of the deepest black
over a neck of the purest white—so pure, so transparent,
that the blue veins beneath were distinctly visible. She
was not tall, but of a,full and beautifully-rounded form;
424 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
and though her features -were not regular, yet their ex-
pression was very captivating and piquant. Her eyes
were dark and brilliant, her lips full and pouting, her
cheeks flushed and dimpled.
Notwithstanding the season of the year, the air was
close and still; the sun had set, and the sky wore a warm
and fiery tinge, but the hills and wood were of a dark
bronze hue.
Dianora Montecino listened impatiently. She awaited
the coming of Oliver,—but he came not. She often sur-
veyed her figure in a mirror which hung opposite, and a
calm smile lighted up her pretty face : it was one of com-
placent but innocent admiration of her own attractions.
Her hair being in partial disorder, languidly, with her
delicate fingers, she endeavoured to adjust it; then paus-
ing, she sighed, and, after again consulting the friendly
mirror, with a pardonable coquetry, she allowed the flowing
tresses to remain free.
" He always prefers me in dishabille. That seems
strange,—and yet I think I really look better so. But
truly, Signor Oliver, you tarry long to-night."
The last flush of sunlight vanished from the hills of
Milia (or Mylte), and now rose the bright moon, shedding
its softer light over land and sea, tinging the Straits with
silver lustre, and revealing the Sicilian feluccas, with their
striped latteen sails, and other picturesque vessels, which
the sombre shadows of evening had for a time obscured.
At the base of the hills, the river wound between rocks
and thickets, its surface reflecting the innumerable stars
that studded the serene blue sky. A beautiful fountain,
beneath the terrace, threw up its jet of water, like a cease-
less shower of diamonds ; the air was laden with the per-
fume of the earliest flowers of an Italian spring, and not
a breath of wind was abroad to stir their closed petals,
then filled with fragrant dew. Intently the young girl
hearkened for the tramp of her lover's horse,—but he
came not: she heard only the tumultuous beating of her
own heart, and the monotonous plash of the water falling
from the bronze Triton's mouth into the marble basin
below.
A step was heard softly on the gravel walk.
"At last he comes!" she said, pouting, while joy and
hope sparkled in her dark and liquid eyes. A man leaped
DIANORA.—THE FORFEITED HAND. 425
over the balustrade of the terrace. " Dear Oliver, you
have come at last: but stay, I owe you a scolding, siguor
mio!"
" 'Tis not Oliver," replied the stranger, with a busky,
but somewhat sad tone of voice ; and he stood before her.
Dianora's first impulse was to call for assistance, but the
voice of the stranger again arrested her.
"For God's sake, signora, do not summon any one!
You have nothing to fear from me—indeed you have
not."
" Giosue, is it only you ?" said the young lady, with a
tone of undisguised reproach and vexation. There was a
pause.
. The unwelcome visitor was a young man about six-and-
twenty, whose dress announced his occupation and rank
in life to be somewhat dubious ; but his air, though con-
strained in the presence of Dianora, had a dash of gallant
and graceful recklessness in it. He wore the brigand
garb, which had then become a kind of uniform adopted
by all desperadoes; he had a carbine in his hand, and a
knife and four long iron pistols were stuck in a yellow silk
sash. A loose velvet jacket, knee-breeches, and gaiters
crossed with red leather straps, displayed to advantage
his fine athletic figure, and round his open neck hung a
little bag, containing a charm, which he supposed rendered
him bullet-proof. A large, shapeless, and battered Cala-
brian hat, with a royalist red riband flaunting from it,
shaded his face, which was fringed with a black and un-
trimmed beard, and presented a kind of savage beauty,
though squalid through want, and fierce in its expression,
being marked with the lines of the worst passions. The
young girl regardqd him with a glance expressive equally
of timidity and pity.
" Dianora—Dianora!" said he, reproachfully, but mildly,
" there was a time when you were not wont to pronounce
my name in such a tone. Alas! sweet cousin—like myself,
its very sound seems changed."
" Poor Giosue!" she began.
"Was not expected here to-night," said he, bitterly.
" No ; you await another. Cattivo ! I know it."
He regarded her gloomily, his fierce dark eyes spark-
ling in the twilight, like those of a basilisk; and she, who
but a moment before had been all eagerness for the arrival
426 ADVENTUBES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP,
of Oliver Lascelles, now mentally implored Heaven that
he might not come that night, for something dreadful
would certainly ensue.
" Dianora," said the young man, "is it true what they
tell me—that you love this stranger?"
"As I never can love thee, Giosue," replied the girl,
with timid energy.
" Malediction! Have you forgotten how you once swore
your hand should be mine ?"
" True, Giosue; but you were not then what you have
since become."
" Hear me, false one! I swear by God and his blessed
saints, that the hand you promised me shall never be the
prize of another. Ho! maladetto! I will slay you, rather!"
He laughed bitterly, and spoke in a hoarse tone. "You
despise me, Dianora. I am now a penniless outlaw. May
our uncle, the hard-hearted bishop, whose miserly cruelty
has driven me to despair "
" O, most ungrateful and unkind, Giosue! say, rather,
your own wild and intractable spirit has occasioned your
destruction
" And the loss of your love, Dianora ?"
" Indeed, Giosue, I never could have loved you as—you
would wish to be loved; but I have pitied you, wept for
you, prayed for you "
" Bless you, dear girl," replied the young man, with in-
tense sadness ; " you are very good and amiable, but I
feel that love for you is making me mad!"
"How, leave me, Giosue. Should the bishop find you
here ''
" Say, rather, he whom you expect!" he exclaimed,
bitterly and jealously. " Ha ! false and fickle one ! within
sound of my whistle are those who, in a moment, would
bear you off to yonder mountains, in spite of all opposi-
tion, and leave in flames this villa of our dog of an uncle.
But no, signora, I must have your love freely, or not at
all."
" A moment ago you threatened "
" Peace ! Attempt not to stir, until you have heard me.
This cursed English lieutenant (ha ! malediction ! you see I
know him), if he comes hither to-night, may get a recep-
tion such as he little expects." He uttered a ferocious
laugh, and struck with his hand the weapons which gar-
DIAN0EA.—THE FOBFEITED HAND. 427
nished his girdle. They clattered, and the heart of
Dianora trembled between fear and indignation, for
nothing rouses a young girl's spirit so much as hearing her
lover spoken of lightly.
"Cospetto! let this baby-faced teniente beware," con-
tinued Giosue, " or, by the blessed Trinity ! I will put a
brace of bullets through his brain."
"Wretch!" exclaimed the trembling Dianora, " begone,
lest I spit upon you! O, Giosue ! are you indeed become
so ruffianly? Have brigandism and outrage hardened
you thus ?"
He laughed sternly, and said, " You do expect him to-
night, then ?"
" What is that to you?" she replied, pettishly. " Cousin,
I will love whom I please."
"You shall not love him."
Dianora, who was now angry in downright earnest,
began to sing, and thrum the strings of her mandolin.
" Me noil segni il biondo Dio,
Me con Fille unisca amore —"
" Dianora!" exclaimed the young man, in a voice half
mournful and half ferocious. " By the memory of other
days, I conjure you to hear me! Think how, as children
—as orphans—we lived, and played, and grew together
—hear me!" His voiee grew thick; but the irritated
girl continued her song.
" E poi sfoghi il suo rigore
Fato rio, nemico ciel."
"Cruel that thou art; thy wish will never be real-
ized !" he exclaimed, fiercely. Still she continued:—
" Che il desio non mi tormenta,
O "
" Maledictions on you ! Is it thus you treat me ?"
Dianora laughed; he gazed intently upon her, with
fierce, glistening eyes; his white lips were compressed
with stern resolution, though agitation made them quiver
—and that quivering was visible even in the moonlight.
"Dianora," said he, " for this time, I will leave you;
but when again we meet—tremble ! Bury! I am not to
be treated like a child !'t
428
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
"Do not be so passionate, signor cousin. Madonna
mia! You are quite tbe Horazio of Matteo Airmail's
novel!"
" Beware," be responded, with a dark and inexplicable
scowl, " tbat your band—tbe band pledged as mine—is not
bestowed upon your lover as Clarinia's was. Farewell,
fickle and cruel Dianora! Misfortune and love are turn-
ing my brain."
" Say, ratber, wine, dice, and debauchery."
" Diavolessa!" be exclaimed, in accents of rage, and
springing over tbe terrace, disappeared.
Dianora resumed ber guitar, but she could sing no
more; ber assumed nonchalance quite deserted ber. The
instrument fell on tbe floor ; and, covering ber face with her
white bands, she wept bitterly, for Giosue's threats and
Obver's absence terrified ber.
Tbe calm moon looked down on tbe dark forests and
tbe snaky windings of tbe river, on whose glassy bosom
here and there a red glow marked tbe watch-fires of tbe
distant French piquets. No one was ascending tbe
mountain side. In tbe villa, in tbe valley below, and on
tbe bills around it, tbe most intense silence prevailed.
Eagerly Dianora hstened. Anon, there rang through tbe
welkin a shrill whistle—tbe whistle of Giosue ; a faint cry
succeeded; it rose from tbe river side, and floated tremu-.
lously upward through the still air. Another, and another
followed ; they were cries for succour ! Her brain reeled
— she sank upon ber knees, and raised ber bands to
heaven—ber heart beat wildly—she panted, ratber than
breathed. "O, God !" thought she, " if Oliver encounter
tbe wild comrades of Giosue, what have I not to dread ?"
Appalled by ber own vivid and fearful thoughts, she sat,
as if spell-bound, listening for other sounds, in an agony
of suspense; but- none other arose from tbe dark wooded
dell than tbe murmur of tbe river, as its waters rolled on
then* way to tbe ocean.
" Joy—-joy—be comes at last!" she exclaimed, as tbe
hoofs of a galloping horse rang on tbe narrow and rocky
pathway, which wound between thickets of orange and
citron-trees, up tbe mountam side. " Dear and blessed
lady of Burello, bow I thank thee that he came not
sooner! Three paters and three aves will I say. I see
him now; 'tis be! How bravely be reins up bis roan
DIANORA.—THE FORFEITED HAND.
429
English horse, with its high head and flowing mane ! There
is^the dark cloak, and the little cap, beneath which his
brown hair curls so crisply. Oh, well should I know him
among a thousand!"
With all the frankness and ardour of an Italian girl, she
rushed upon the terrace, and, waving her hand over the
balustrade, said playfully, " You have come at last, signor
mio. Fi! I owe you a severe lecture ; approach, and re-
ceive it penitently."
At that moment, the horseman rode close to the wall of
the terrace, and threw an arm around her. Overcome by
her recent agitation, Dianora sank upon his breast, mur-
muring, in tender accents, " Oliver—dear Oliver."
" The curses of the whole calendar upon thee and
Oliver too! Ha! you greet not him contemptuously
with an old scrap of Metastasio. Burning hell! traitress,
I recall your biting taunts, and will revenge me, even as
Horazio did. Lo! the hand you pledged unto me shall
yet be mine."
A smothered cry burst from Dianora. Instead of
the handsome and flushed face of Oliver Lascelles, a livid
and unearthly visage, distorted by the most vindictive
passions, was close to her cheek; two ferocious eyes
glared upon her, and the strong arm of Giosue was around
her.
" Never again wilt thou scorn a lover, Dianora Monte-
cino, and dear will that taunt cost thee which dictates my
revenge."
His long, keen acciaro gleamed in the moonlight, as he
grasped her beautiful hand with the grasp of a tiger—in-
stantly the sharp knife descended upon the slender wrist!
* # # # . # *
Let me throw a veil over the horrors that ensued.
The French sentinels on the windings of the lonely
river, the wolf in the distant woods, and the eagle on the
rocks of Battaglia, must have been alike startled by the
agonizing shrieks of Dianora. Fearful they were, but of
short duration. A moan succeeded—a moan of terrible
import. Then rang the hoofs of a horse, as if spurred
madly down the steep roadway. A turn of the dell hid
the wild horseman, and then all became still.
Her right hand severed at the wrist, her nose cuff off,
and her face seamed with the most frightful gashes,
2 F
430 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMF.'
Dianora was found by the alarmed household of the
bishop, stretched on the marble terrace, bleeding and
senseless—mutilated'—dying. She was borne away; con-
vulsions succeeded, and that night the unhappy X)ianora
died.
She expired in the arms of the venerable bishop, whose
grief and horror rendered him almost distracted.
CHAPTEE LIX.
THE MONASTERY.
To return to Scylla. The hour of parade passed; Las-
celles had not yet returned, and I could no longer with-
stand my anxiety for his safety. Accompanied by my in-
telligent countryman Gask, a bugler, and twenty soldiers,
in light marching order, each with sixty rounds of ammu-
nition, I departed in the direction of Eiumara, on the
almost hopeless errand of endeavouring to discover him. I
now reproached myself bitterly, and really thought I had
been much to blame in not restricting my rash friend,
even at the chance of a quarrel; it could not have been of
long duration.
Leaving Scylla as quietly as possible, we marched
towards Fiumara, by the most lonely and unfrequented
route, through gorges and thickets, expecting every
instant to hear the musket of our advanced file dis-
charged, as a signal that a patrol of French cavalry, or,
some such interruption, was in sight.
It was a beautiful morning; the rays of the bright sun
streamed aslant between the peaks of Mylse, and the
white dewy vapour curled from the dells, like a gauze
screen, mellowing the dark green of the pine-thickets, and
the blue of the gleaming ocean, which shone at times be-
tween the openings of the high and broken shore. The
morning hymn to the Yirgin, and the tolling of the matin-
bell, floated through the still air, from the dark old walls
of St. Battaglia, a monastery perched on a rock, by the
base of which the pathway wound. On we hurried, and
soon Fiumara, its houses shining in the sun, the red
THE MONASTERY. 431
smoky fires of the French camp, and then- chain of out-
piquets near the river, appeared before us..
At the bottom of the hill, on which the villa of Monte-
eino was situated, just as we were striking into the nar-
row path that wound up its wooded side, our advanced
file (who was about fifty paces in front), halted, and waved
his hand.
" Keep together, men! fix bayonets!—look to your
priming—forward!" I exclaimed, and we rushed towards
him. There was no immediate cause for alarm; but on a
level spot of green sward, we discovered sufficient evidence
that some deed of violence and atrocity had been perpe-
trated, and I trembled for my poor friend Oliver! On
the grass, lay his gilded gorget, with its white silk riband
rent in two; near it lay a buff military glove, covered with
blood; a little further on, we found his riding-switch, with
his crest graven on its gold embossed head. All around,
the trampled state of the grass, the marks of feet (some of
which had evidently been shoeless), the deep indents of
horse-hoofs, and, worst of all, a pool of coagulated blood
on the pathway, led us to anticipate some terrible cata-
strophe. Loud and deep were the threats and execrations
of the soldiers.
At an accelerated pace, we pushed up the hill towards
the house of Montecino, passing on our left the moulder-
ing ruins of a castelletto, or little fortalice, the broken
ramparts of which were almost hidden under heavy mas.ses
of dark-green ivy and luxuriant weeds.
Entering the bishop's disordered mansion without cere-
mony, I halted the soldiers in the vestibule, and desired a
servant, who appeared, to conduct me to her master. The
woman vouchsafed me no other reply than a motion to
follow her: she was very pale, and her eyes were red from
• recent weeping. Opening a door, she ushered me into a
little darkened oratory, where, on a bier before the altar,
surrounded by tapers, shedding "a dim, religious light,"
lay the sad remains of the hapless Dianora. They were
covered with a white shroud, and so completely, that I
beheld not the frightful ravages committed by the knife of
the assassin. Beside the body — his white vestments
soiled with blood, his thin grey hairs dishevelled, his aspect
wild and haggard—knelt Pietro Montecino, the aged
bishop of Nicastro, his attenuated hands, clasped, and
432
ADVENTUEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
holding a crucifix, on which, at times, he bowed down his
reverend head. His wonted spiritual resignation, priestly
dignity, and stateliness of aspect were gone; his spirit
was crushed and broken. How changed was his whole
appearance since the day when, with Bianca, I stood
before the altar in the church of his bishopric !
" O, Dianora ! my daughter—my child! " he exclaimed,
in accents of the deepest grief: " O Madonna, have mercy
upon me ! Holy Trinity, have mercy upon me ! Dianora,
my blessed one ! Saint Eufemio, pray for her ! Saint
Magdalene, pray for her! Sweet lady of Burello!—beati-
fied Rosalia!—thrice-blessed lady of Loretto, mother of
mercy! hear me, and pray for her!" Heavy sobs sue-
The touching tones of his voice, and the passionate
fervour of his devout appeals, deeply moved me. So
intense was his sorrow, that it almost warranted the sus-
picion of a nearer relationship to Dianora than his vows
and character as a Catholic churchman permitted; but no
such ungenerous thought occurred to me then : my heart
felt only the deepest and most sincere compassion for the
bereaved old man. He was so besotted with woe, that I
saw it was next to impossible to obtain from him the least
intelligence or advice; and, withdrawing softly, I left the
villa immediately.
When descending the hill towards the spot where we
had found the relics of our missing comrade, we met a
peasant, who, with a long ox-goad, was urging a pair of
lazy buffaloes towards Scylla. I desired my soldiers to
bring him before me, in the desperate hope of obtaining
some information concerning poor Laseelles ; and, strange
uld not have had a luckier rencontre, or better
, ignor Campagnuolo! " said I to the cattle-
driver, "from whence have you come this morning—
Fiumara, eh ? "
"Ho, Signor."
" Where, then ? "
" From the monastery of Battaglia, down the mountains
yonder," he answered somewhat reservedly; and, en-
deavouring to pass, he added, " a holy day to you, Signor."
" Any movement taking place among the French lately ?
Are any of their patrols out P "
ceeded.
THE MONASTERY.
433
" I have not heard, excellency; but a fugitive, chased
by a party of them, took refuge at the monastery this
morning, and is said to have confessed to the Padre Abate
a horrible crime."
"Ha! and is he now in the sanctuary?" I demanded,
eagerly.
"Prostrate on the steps of the altar; his penitence is
great. Madonna, intercede for him !"
" Thanks," said I, permitting the uneasy rustic to pass
on his way. "Advance, soldiers—trail arms—forward,
double quick! We have got on the right scent at last,
perhaps ; and there is not a moment to be lost."
With right goodwill the soldiers moved forward
towards the monastery, their arms glancing and pouches
clanking as they rushed down the steep hill-side. The
place of our destination, a confused mass of irregular
buildings, stood near the river before mentioned, about a
mile distant. J' f great antiquity; a
that rose its campanile, a square tower, surmounted
by a flat tiled roof. From the outer wall, the rocks on
which the edifice was perched sloped precipitously down
on all sides, especially towards the south, where they
descended in one unbroken line to the deep, dark waters
of the still but rapid stream, which wound through a
chasm below.
As we began to ascend the steep and devious path cut
in the hard volcanic rock, and leading directly to the
monastery, we saw the monks appearing and disappearing
like black crows on their high outer wall, and the arched
gateway was hurriedly closed: the fathers were evidently
in a state of consternation, and making all fast, fearing
that we might disregard the immunities of the holy sane-
tuary. All the friars had vanished by the time we reached
the iron-studded door in the outer wall, over which the
evergreen ivy and long rank grass were waving in pro-
fusion.
We knocked loudly. Ho answer was given.
"Sound!" said I to the bugle-boy; and a loud blast
from his instrument made the old walls, the echoing
chapel, the bosky woods, and splintered rocks ring far and
near. Still the summons was unheeded, and the impatient
soldiers thundered at the gateway with the butts of their
high wall of
round, and above
434
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
muskets. The reverend fathers no doubt suspected our
purpose.
''What want ye?" said an old vinegar-vis aged friar,
appearing on the top of the wall, which he had surmounted'
by the assistance of a ladder.
" Are you all asleep within there ? " I answered, angrily.
"We want a fugitive, to whom you have given refuge.
Call you this civility, padre ? and to us whose swords are
drawn in the cause of your country?"
" Beware, Signori Inglesi! dare you violate the rights
of the blessed sanctuary ? "
"You will soon learn whether we will not, you old
scarecrow !" I replied, with increased impatience. " Aprite
la porta, Signor Canonico, or by Heaven! we will beat it
down in a twinkling ! "
" Patience, capitano—patience, until I confer with the
reverend Superior."
"Be quick, then! We must see instantly this rascal
who has obtained sanctuary. The enemy are so near, that
we have not a moment to lose."
The monk disappeared. I directed Gask, with six
soldiers, to watch the walls, and capture or wound any
man attempting to escape; but not to kill, if possible. I
was most anxious to learn with certainty the fate of Las-
celles : whether he had been assassinated, or was lying
perishing and mutilated in some solitary place, or had
been delivered up to the French. Indeed, I should have
been relieved from a load of anxiety, and felt overjoyed to
learn that his fate was only the last. Gask was as well
aware as I how jealous the continental monks were of the
ancient right of sanctuary, and he knew that they would
rather favour the escape of the vilest criminal than deliver
him up to offended justice. Of their obstinacy in this
respect, I know of several instances : one I will mention
in particular. It occurred at Malta:—
A soldier of ours, when passing one day through a street
of Valetta, was run against and thrown down by a provoking
brute of a pig. Exasperated at having his gay uniform
soiled by; the dusty street, he gave the grunting porker a
hearty kick; upon which, the villanous macellajo, to whom
it belonged, drew his poniard and stabbed him to the heart.
The poor soldier fell dead on the pavement; the murderer
fled to the great church of St. John, and obtained sane-
the sanctuary violated.
435
tuary. Respecting the popular prejudices of tlie Maltese
(who regard with the greatest veneration that sacred edi-
flee, which contains the sepulchres of innumerable brave
knights of the Isle), the general commanding permitted
the hot-blooded ruffian to remain some time in sanctuary,
before he applied to the bishop for the exertion of his
authority to have him delivered up to the civil magistrates.
The prelate delayed, equivocated; and the reverend
fathers, foreseeing the violation of their famous place of
refuge, facilitated the escape of the assassin, and so de-
feated the ends of justice.
I was determined that the priests of St. Battaglia
should not cheat me so in this affair ; and, after desiring
Gask with his party to keep on the alert, I was about to
have the door blown to pieces by a volley of musketry,
when the bars were withdrawn, and it slowly revolved on
its creaking hinges. The soldiers were about to rush in ;
but the sight they beheld arrested them: all paused, mute,
and turned inquiringly to me for instructions.
CHAPTER LX.
the sanctuary violated.
The portal of the edifice slowly unfolded, disclosing the
whole array of priests, who, clad in their floating vestments,
advanced, chanting, from the oratory, with tapers burning,
censers smoking, and two emblazoned banners waving,
one of white silk, bearing a large crimson cross, sur-
mounted by the sacred charge of St. Peter—the keys of
heaven; the other, the symbolical banner of St. Battaglia,
surrounded by all the imaginary odour and glory of sanctity.
The spectacle was very imposing: the tapers of scented
wax, and the silver censers, filled with lavender flowers,
diffused through the air a fragrant perfume ; while the
pale, curling smoke that encircled the gilded crosses and
elevated images, rendered—
" Indistinct the pageant proud,
As fancy forms of midnight cloud,
"When flings the moon upon her shroud
A wavering tinge of flame."
436 ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
The misty vapour, the flickering lights, and the flowing
garments of the fathers ; the dark walls of the old cloisters,
which rang to the solemn and sonorous chant of twenty
male voices; the distant organ swelling aloud, and then,
dying away in the hollow recesses of the arched oratory,
together produced a striking effect. The abbot, an aged
priest of venerable aspect, with a beard white as the new-
fallen snow (then an unusual appendage to a canon's chin),
appeared at their head. They halted beneath the ivy-
crowned archway ; the chant ceased, the soldiers drew
back, and all were silent: save the magnificent strains of
the organ, reverberating in the vaulted chapel, and the
rustle of the consecrated standards, all was still. The
abbot, who no doubt expected that this religious display
would impress us with a feeling of awe, then addressed
me—
" Your purpose, signor ?" he asked, mildly, but
firmly.
" Reverend abate," I responded, lowering my sword
respectfully, " I demand the person of a vile assassin, whom
I have learned, from unquestionable authority, you have
concealed within these walls !"
" He whom you seek is under the protection of God.
Know, signor, that he who puts forth a hand in anger
against one who seeketh and findeth sanctuary in the
church, is guilty of the most atrocious sacrilege ! "
" On my own head be the guilt of the sacrilege, Padre
Abate. Excuse us : the French are in your immediate
vicinity, and we run the imminent risk of being all taken
prisoners. One of our comrades, a young officer of dis-
tinction, is missing; and a frightful assassination has been
committed at the villa Monteeino: we have every reason
to believe that your favoured fugitive is implicated in both
these mysterious occurrences. I cannot parley with you.
reverend signor: I demand an interview with the criminal;
and, if he is not instantly brought forth, I have to acquaint
you that I will search the monastery by force; and, if
need be, drag him from the very altar at the point of the
bayonet!"
Ere the indignant abbot could reply—
" Darest thou, abominable heretic as thou art, violate
the house of God ?" cried a tall, fierce-looking, and
fanatical monk, rushing forward, with flushed cheeks
THE SANCTUARY VIOLATED.
437
and kindling eyes, and holding aloft a ponderous ebony
crucifix. " Pause, lest the thunders of offended Heaven
be hurled upon ye ; pause, lest the vials of wrath "
" Pshaw !" I exclaimed, impatiently; "we may parley
here till sunset. Soldiers, forward to the chapel; there
you will doubtless discover the rogue." My followers
rushed past: a volley of execrations burst from the padri,
and I was assailed with cries of " paganico infame!
malandrino!—infidel! damnable heretic !" and a thousand
other injurious and ridiculous epithets. I heeded them
not; but, at the head of my party, burst into the chapel
of the monastery. I had augured rightly: there the
fugitive was discovered.
Pale as death, ghastly and bloody from a sword-wound
on the head, a savage-looking fellow was dragged by
force from the foot of the great gilt crucifix on the altar,
to the rail of which he clung for a moment with convulsive
energy. The soldiers brought him before me, and, by
their fixed bayonets, kept back the exasperated priests,
who continued to pour forth upon us a ceaseless torrent of
invectives and maledictions, which we regarded no more
than the wind.
" Are you the unhappy man who is guilty of murder ?"
said I. He replied only by a wild and unmeaning stare.
" Unhappy wretch! your name ?"
" Giosue of Montecino," said he, suddenly and fiercely.
I trembled for poor Oliver, on remembering the name of
his rival.
" Villain! what fiend tempted you to slay your unhappy
cousin ?"
He started, as if stung by a serpent.
" She is dead, then," he said, in a hoarse and almost
inarticulate voice, while his head drooped upon his heaving
breast. Suddenly uttering a howl like a wild beast, he
broke away from the soldiers, escaping their levelled
bayonets, and finding the gate secured, scrambled up the
rugged outer wall like a polecat; there balancing himself,
he turned, and regarded me with a scornful scowl,—lie
burst into a bitter and hysterical laugh. The soldiers
rushed towards him, and one fired, but I threw up his
firelock, and the ball passed close to the head of the
assassin, who never winced. Escape was now impossible:
on one side of him bristled twenty bayonets ; on the other,
438
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
was a tremendous precipice, with a deep river flowing at
its base several hundred feet below. The slightest
dizziness might have been fatal to him. But folding his
arms, he uttered a laugh of defiance, and called upon us
to fire. I was strongly tempted to put his talisman to the
proof, but restrained my exasperated soldiers.
"Wretch!" said I, "know you aught of a British
officer, who has been missing since last night ?"
" Yes," he replied, with a sardonic grin, shaking his
clenched right hand aloft with savage exultation. " These
are the fingers that fastened on his throat with a tiger's
clutch."
"You slew him !" I cried, and drew a pistol from my
sash.
" I did not—ha! and yet I did."
" How, villain?" He laughed scornfully again.
" Hear me, Griosue Montecino," said I: " you see this
pistol ? I might, in one moment, deprive you of
existence "
" Ha ! ha!" laughed the assassin.
" Yet I will spare your life, if you will tell me the fate
of my comrade."
" My life ? Bagatella! ho ! ho! I want it not. Tools
—dolts that ye are ! think ye that I am afraid to die ?
Here is my breast: a thousand bullets were welcome—
straight to the heart—fire!" and he smote his bosom as
he spoke. There was something almost noble in his
aspect at that moment, notwithstanding its wildness and
repulsiveness.
" Hear me, fellow : the Lieutenant Lascelles "
" Ha !" he ground his teeth madly. " Curses hurl him
to that perdition into which he has hurried me! At this
moment, he feels in the body some of those agonies I
endure in the spirit. O Dianora !—thou, whose very
shadow I worshipped,—I, who loved the very ground you
trod upon!" The inexplicable ruffian sobbed heavily, yet
his blood-shot eyes were never moistened by a tear. " O
Dianora!" he continued, in a voice, which, though husky,
yet expressed the most intense pathos ; " who was the
fiend that nerved me to destroy thee, and so barbarously?
Who, but this accursed Englishman ? Believe me, signor,
I had not the least intention of slaying her last night. O
no! none—none." He wrung his hands wildly. "What
THE SANCTUARY VIOLATED.
439
could be further from my thoughts ? Disguised as her
lover—as this Oliver—I intended to have carried her off,
but her endearing accents, addressed as to him, fell lite
scorching fire upon my heart. I could restrain my
demoniac feelings no longer. O, horror! Yet I have
done nothing that I would not commit again, rather than
behold her in the arms of—of—Maladetto !—his name is
poison to my lips !"
" Madman! come down from the wall."
" Would you learn the fate of your friend?" he asked,
exultingly.
" Had I a mountain of gold to give you "
" Gold?—fool!—what is gold tome? Listen : waylaid
by my companions last night, the dog you call your
comrade was dashed from his horse by their clubs. He
fought bravely, and with his sabre laid open my head:
my own blood blinded me. Ha! a moment, and my
hand was on his throat—my acciaro at his breast—yet I
spared him."
" Heaven will reward you "
" Ha! ha! A sudden death suited not my purpose or
my hate. Slow, consuming, diabolical, mental tortures
were what I wanted: and what think you we did ?" I
was breathless; I could not ask, but Giosue continued—
" Bound with cords, he was borne to a ruined vault
among the lonely mountains yonder; there, amid stinging
adders, hissing vipers, bloated toads, and voracious pole-
cats, we flung him down, tied hand and foot, stunned and
bleeding. Then closing the aperture, we piled up earth,
and stones, and rocks against it. There let him perish—
unseen, unknown, unheard. May never an ave be said
over his bones, and may a curse blight, haunt, and blast,
to all futurity, the spot where they lie!" He paused for
a moment- and then continued more slowly and ener-
getically—
" To laugh to scorn the terror of death was the glory
of the Greek and the [Roman; and I will show thee,
Signor Inglese, that Giosue of Montecino can despise it
as nobly as his classic fathers may have done in the days
of old." He raised aloft a long bright poniard, which he
suddenly drew forth from his sleeve.
"> Madman ! desperado !" I exclaimed, " hold, for the
sake of mercy! A word—a word—I will give you a
440
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
thousand ducats—life—all—anything! but say where you
have imprisoned my friend?—for Heaven's sake, say !"
" Never!" said he, with a triumphant scowl; "never !
let him perish with myself. Love for Dianora led me to
destroy her, and love for her still, teaches me that to
survive would be the foulest and basest cowardice !"
He struck the stiletto to his heart, and fell dead at my
feet.
I was horror-stricken : not by the suicide of the
assassin, but by the revelation he had just made. Of its
truth, I could not entertain a doubt. The situation of the
unfortunate Lascelles, pinioned, wounded, and entombed
alive, to endure all the protracted agonies of death by
starvation, rushed vividly upon my mind, and over-
whelmed me with rage and mortification. I explained to
my soldiers the terrible confession of the fierce Giosue,
and their emotions were not much short of my own. We
endured tantalization in its bitterest sense. What would
I not have given that the convulsed corpse of the
vindictive Montecino were yet endued with life. But,
alas ! the ruffian had perished in his villany, with the
important secret undisclosed, and the horrible fate of my
friend could not be averted.
And Giosue, wretch as he was, I pitied him. His had
been the burning love, and his the deadly hatred of his
country—
" The cold in clime, or cold in blood,
Their love, it scarce deserves a name ;
But his was like the lava's flood,
That boils in Etna's breast of flame."
Slowly and dejectedly we quitted the monastery, as the
sun was setting behind the mils of Sicily ; and marching
in silence towards Scylla, we reached a third time the
place where Oliver's glove and gorget had been found.
There we made an involuntary halt, and gazed around us
with the keenest scrutiny, in the hope of discovering some
clue to the place of his immurement. My brave party
seemed very unwilling to return to Scylla without making
another effort to rescue the victim of Montecino. Innu-
merable were the ideas suggested and plans proposed, but
none of them seemed worthy of attention, save one of
Serjeant Gask's.
THE SANCTUARY VIOLATED.
441
" The rascal mentioned a mined vault amongthe hills,"
said he ; " now what think you, Captain JDundas, of
searching the ruins on the mountain yonder ? And, by
my faith, sir, the footmarks and traces of blood lead off
in that direction. See ! the lower branches of the shrubs
are broken, the withered leaves of the last year are trodden
down, and bloody tracks are on the grass."
" The serjeant is right, sir," muttered the soldiers,
pleased with his acuteness.
" Move on, then ; forward, to the old castle: any active
•occupation is preferable to this horrid state of idle
suspense."
A quarter of an hour's rapid marching brought us to
the castelletto, a little tower in a state of great dilapida-
tion, covered with masses of bronze-like ivy, and the
beautiful wild flowers of fruitful Italy. A large owl flew
from one of the shattered openings, and, with a shrill
scream, soared on its heavy wings through the evening
sky. The woods and hills around us were growing dark;
the place was still as the grave—the ivy-leaves rustling
tremulously on the rugged masonry of the ruin, and a
rivulet tinkling through a fissure of a neighbouring rock,
were the only sounds we heard. Solemn pines towered
around it on every hand, and the aspect of the landscape
was peculiarly desolate and gloomy. A musket was fired
as a signal, and, with a thousand reverberations, the
wooded hills gave back the echo. With heads bent to the
ground, we listened intently ; but there was no response,
and we looked blankly in each other's faces.
" This cannot be the place," said I, in a tone of sadness,
about to move unwillingly away.
" Stay, sir—look here, Captain Dundas," cried Cask ;
" here is blood on the grass, and, sure as I live, stones
freshly heaped up there ! "
" Bight—by Jove! Gask, you are an acute fellow.
Pile your firelocks, lads, and clear away this heap of
rubbish."
Flushed with hope, the soldiers attacked the pile of
stones indicated by the serjeant; there were bushes,
earth, and fragments of mined masonry, all evidently but
recently piled up against the base of the tower. Bapidly
they rolled down the heavy blocks, and toiled so
strenuously, that in three minutes the whole heap was
"442
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
cleared away, and a little arched aperture disclosed. An
exclamation of joy and hope burst from the whole party ,*
we had found the place. Gask and the little bugler de-
scended into the vault—a dark, damp, and hideous hole,
under the ruins. A faint moan drew them cautiously to a
corner, and there they found the object of all our search
and anxiety—Oliver Lascelles, benumbed by cold, and his
limbs swollen almost to bursting by the tight cordage
which confined them. He was speechless, and half-stifled
by the noxious vapours of the dungeon: had we been
half an hour later, he must have expired. When we drew
him forth, he was so pale, haggard, and death-like, that
his aspect shocked me ; 1 1,1 ? fresh breeze of the
He could not address us at first; but his looks of thank-
fulness, joy, and recognition were most expressive. The
soldiers were merry and happy, every face beamed with
gladness; even Gask's usually grave and melancholy
visage was brightened by a smile.
We had little time for explanation; we were in a dan-
gerous vicinity, from which it was necessary to retire
without a moment's delay. Oliver was quite enfeebled:
but, supported on the Serjeant's arm and mine, he con-
trived to walk, though slowly, and we set out imme-
diately for the castle of Scylla.
Gask afterwards told me, that in the vault " he had
touched something that made his flesh creep." It was a
small and delicate female hand. I never mentioned the
circumstance to Oliver, who was long in recovering
from the effects of his perilous love adventure. But I baa
no doubt the dead hand was poor Dianora's ; the forfeited
hand, which in cruel mockery that incarnate demon Giosue
had thrown beside her lover.
In the bustle of succeeding and more important events,
the interest we took in Lascelles' affair gradually sub-
sided. But it was long ere he forgot the fate of Dianora,
and the horrible death, which, by a lucky combination of
incidents, he had so narrowly escaped; and longer still
ere he recovered his wonted buoyancy of spirit and light-
ness of heart.
balmy evening revived
recovered rapidly.
unexpected peeils.
443:
CHAPTER LXI.
unexpected perils.
The near approach of the enemy made it apparent that
the town of Scylla would soon be destroyed by the shot
and shell their artillery would pour upon it; and that the
Eree Corps, who occupied its half-ruined streets, would be
sacrificed, without being of service to the garrison in the
castle ; I therefore telegraphed to the Electro, to send
off a boat, as I wished to consult with her commander
about the transmission of those troops to Messina.
A strong breeze had been blowing from the south-west
all day, and the sea ran with such fury through the Straits,
that no boat could come off until after sunset, when there
was a lull. Immediately, on being informed that a boat had
arrived at the sea staircase, I buckled on my sabre, threw
my cloak round me, and hurried off, intending to return
before the ever-anxious Bianca had discovered my absence.
How vain were my anticipations !
The long fetch of the sea running from Syracuse rolled
the breakers with great fury on the castle rock, and the
boat was tossed about like a cork among the foaming surf
that seethed and hissed around us. As the oars dipped in
the water and she shot away, I seated myself in the stern-
sheets, beside the little middy who held the tiller-ropes.
The frigate lay nearly a mile to the southward, and there
was such a tremendous current against us, that the six
oarsmen, though straining ever nerve and sinew, found it
impossible to make head against it.
" I wish we may make the frigate to-night, sir," said
the midshipman, looking anxiously at the clouds ; " there's
a squall coming from the south-south-east, and these
Straits are an awkward place to be caught by one. What
do you think, Tom Taut ?"
"Think, sir? why that we'll have a dirty night," re-
plied the sailor whom he addressed ; a grim, brown, and
brawny tar. " When I sailed in the Polly Femus, 74,
we had just such a night as this off Scylla, and I won't be
in a hurry forgetting it!"
It was now past sunset, in the month of February, and
444
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
the darkness of the lowering sky increased rapidly.
Through the thin mist floating over the surface of the
water, the frigate loomed large ; but when the rising wind
cleared it away, we found the distance increasing between
us : the strong current was carrying us, at the rate of five
knots an hour, towards the terrible rock we had just left,
which rose from the water like a black gigantic tower, and
seemed ever to be close by, frowning its terrors upon us.
Dense banks of vapour soon shrouded the land and hid
the frigate ; it grew so dark, that'we knew not which way
to steer. The seamen still continued to pull fruitlessly;
for we made so much sternway, that I expected to find the
frail craft momently stranded on the rocky beach.
"We shall never reach the frigate to-night, unless she
fills, and makes a stretch towards us," said the middy.
" This current will not change till daylight, and the Lord
knows when the wind will chop about. It has been
blowing from Syracuse ever since the poor little Delight
was driven on the rocks yonder."
" You cannot fetch Scylla, I suppose?"
" Lord, no, sir! we must give it a wide berth; the
breakers will be running against it in mountains, just now.
We must put up the helm and run with the wind and tide,
to avoid swamping; and if we escape being sucked into
Charybdis on the westward, or beached under the cliffs of
Palmi to the northward, we may consider ourselves lucky
dogs."
" But we may be thrown upon a part of the coast occu-
pied by the enemy."
" Better that than go to old Davy, sir," said the
grey-haired bow-oarsmau, "as I nearly did when the
Po'llg Femns, 74, came through these same Straits of
Messina."
" When ?" said I;—" lately ?"
" Lord love you, no sir—why 'twas in the year
one."
" One!"
" That is, 1801. We were standing for Malta, with a
stiff breeze from the nor'-east. The Polly Femus was
close-hauled on the starboard tack "
" D—n the Polyphemus," cried the midshipman,
testily, as he put the helm up ; " take in your loose gaff,
Tom; if we are not picked up by thoAmphion, your tune
UNEXPECTED PERILS.
445
will be changed before morning. Hoste keeps a good
look-out."
" He was made a sailor of in the Polly—whew! beg
pardon sir," said the old fellow, who could not resist
making another allusion to his old ship.
" Faith! Captain Dundas," said the middy, " it is so
dark, that I have, not the slightest notion of our
whereabouts."
" Yonder's a spark, away to windward, sir," said old
Tom. " The Electra cannot be less than somewhere about
two miles off—a few fathoms, more or less."
At that moment, the frigate fired a gun; the red flash
gleamed through the gloom, and after a lapse, the report
was borne past us on the night wind. A blue light was
next burned ; it shone like a distant star above the black
and tumbling sea, then expired; and so did all our hopes
of reaching the ship—the sound of her gun having in-
formed us that we had been swept by the current far to
the north of the Lanterna of Messina, which was rapidly
being lost amid the murky vapour.
" Keep a good look-out there forward," cried the
middy ; " if we miss the Amphion, we may all go to the
bottom, or be under weigh for a French prison by this
time to-morrow."
" Ay, ay, sir," replied the sailor through his hand,
while, bending forward, he strove to pierce the gloom
ahead.
" Give way, men—cheerily now."
The rowers stretched back over the thwarts, till their
oars bent like willow wands, and as the strong current was
with us now, we flew through the foaming water with the
speed of a race-horse.
The Amphion should be somewhere hereabouts," said
the midshipman, as the oarsmen suspended their labours,
after a quarter of an hour's pulling; we anxiously scanned
the gloomy, watery waste, but could discern no trace of
her. Vapour and obscurity involved us on every side,
and our minds became a prey to apprehensions, while our
blood chilled with the cold atmosphere, and a three hours'
seat in an open boat at such a season. The tower of the
Lantern had vanished ; a single star only was visible, and
the inky waves often hid it, as the boat plunged down
into the dark trough of the midnight sea.
446
ADVENTUEES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Suddenly the broad moon showed her silvery disc above
the level horizon; her size seemed immense, and as the
thin gauzy clouds rolled away from her shining face, we
saw the black waves rising and falling in strong outline
between. Her aspect was gloomy and lowering.
" When the moon sets, the current will begin to run
northward," said the experienced little'mid, "and we shall
have a capital chance of being sucked into the Calofaro,
or stranded on Punta Secca. Would to God we saw the
frigate!"
As he spoke, a large vessel passed across the bright face
of that magnificent moon, which shed a long line of silver
light across the troubled water, brightening the summits
of the waves, as they rose successively from the dark bosom
of the sea. The effect was beautiful, as the vessel passed
on the rolling surge, and, heaving gracefully, slid away
into obscurity.
"A large frigate on the starboard tack," said the mid-
shipman, as she disappeared ; " she is five miles off."
" That's the Amphion, your honour," said Tom Taut;
"1 know her as well as the old Polly Femus."
" Acre you sure P" I asked, with anxiety.
"Sure!" replied Tom, energetically,spitting his quid
to leeward ; " I know her in a moment, by the rake of her
spars. Her mizen top-sail aback—her courses shivering :
I know her better than any ship on the station, except the
darling old Folly. Bill Hoste is creeping along shore,
after some of these gun-boats the Delight let slip so
ear""
Palmi."
" Hark!" said the midshipman; and the roar of billows
rolling on the shore confirmed my supposition.
" Breakers ahead!" cried the man at the bow; and we
beheld a long white frothy line, glimmering through the
gloom, and above it towered the dark outline of a lofty
coast. The current shot us among the surf, which boiled
around us, as white as if we were amid the terrors of
Charybdis. A little cove, where the waves rolled gently
up the sandy slope, invited us to enter; the boat ran in,
and we were immediately in the smooth water of a little
harbour, where the dark wild woods overhung the rocks
at its entrance, and all around it on every side. Here we
UNEXPECTED PERILS. 447
hoped to remain unseen, till daylight revealed our " where-
abonts," as the middy had it.
For a. time, we kept the oars in the rowlocks, ready to
retire on a moment's notice ; but finding that not a sound,
save the dashing sea, woke the echoes of that lonely place,
I volunteered to land and make a reconnoissance, desiring
the midshipman to pull southward along the shore, in case
of any alarm, that I might be picked up at some other
point. Belting my. sabre tighter, I threw aside my cloak,
and sprang ashore. On walking a little way forward
through the wood, I found the country open, and saw
lights at a distance, which I conjectured to be those of
Palmi or Seminara, where Begnier had concentrated a
strong body of troops.
Struggling forward among a wilderness of prostrate
columns! ana shattered walls, overgrown with creeping
plants and foliage (probably the ruins of ancient Tauria~
nwm), I often stopped, and bent to the ground to listen,
but heard only the creaking trees, the gurgle of a lonely
rill, seeking its devious path to the sea, or the rustle of
withered leaves, swept over the waste by the rising wind.
But the roll of a distant drum, and the flash of a cannon,
about two miles off, arrested my steps, and made me think
of returning: I conjectured it to be the morning gun
from the French fort at Palmi. Daylight soon began to
brighten the summits of the Apennines, and the waves, as
they rolled on each far-off promontory and cape. Having
nearly a mile to walk, I began hurriedly to retrace my
steps, for the dawn stole rapidly on. As I walked on, the
deep boom of a cannonade, and the sharp patter of small
arms, made my heart leap with excitement and anxiety,
and spurred me in my flight. Breaking through the wood,
I rushed breathlessly to the shore—but, alas! the boat
was gone: I saw it pulled seaward, with a speed which
the strong flow of the morning current accelerated. In
close chase, giving stroke for stroke, while the crew plied
their muskets and twenty-four pounder, followed one of
those unlucky gun-boats captured by the French : it had
been anchored in the same cove, and had discovered our
little shallop the moment day broke.
The pursued and the pursuers soon disappeared behind
a promontory, and I found myself alone, far behind the
enemy's lines, and almost without a chance of escape.
448 adventures of an aide-de-camj?.
Cursing the zeal wliicli had led me on such a fruitless recon-
noissance, I retired into a beech-wood, as the safest place,
and lay down in a thicket, to reflect on my position, and
form a plan for extrication from it.
CHAPTER LXII.
captured by the enemy.—the two generals,
I was only twelve miles distant from Scylla; but, as
every approach to it was closely blocked up by Regnier,
whose troops covered the whole province from sea to sea,
every attempt to reach it would be attended by innume-
rable dangers and difficulties ; yet, confiding in the loyalty
of the Calabrese, and the influence my name had among
them, I did not despair of regaining the fortress, by seeking
its vicinity through the most retired paths.
Except my sword, spurs, and Hessian boots, I had
nothing military about me, as I wore a Calabrian doublet
of grey cloth, and a nondescript forage-cap. As I walked
forward, the trees became more scattered, and the
openness of the ground made the utmost circumspection
necessary. A sudden cry of " Halte! arretez !" made
me pause ; and, within a few paces, I beheld a French
vidette—a lancer, in his long scarlet cloak, which flowed
from his shoulders over the crupper of his horse, and, like
his heavy plume and tricoloured banderole, was dank with
dew.
" Ah, sacre coquin !" he cried, lowering his lance, and
charging me at full speed. " I see you are an English-
man." I sprang behind a tree, and, as he passed me in
full career, by a blow of my sabre I hewed the steel head
from hi3 lance. At that moment, an officer rode up, and,
placing a pistol at my head, commanded me to yield. Re-
sistance was vain, and I surrendered my sabre in the
most indescribable sorrow and chagrin,—for thoughts of
Bianca, of a long separation and imprisonment, of all my
blighted hopes of happiness, honour, and promotion, and
of the important trust reposed in me, rushed in a flood
upon my mind: almost stupified, I was led away by my
captor.
CAPTURED BY THE ENEHY.—THE TWO GENERALS. 449
A few minutes' walk brought us to the bivouac of a
cavalry brigade, which was in all the bustle of prepara-
tion for the march, while six trumpeters, blowing " boot
and saddle," made the furthest dingles of the forest
ring. The horses were all piqueted under trees or within
breast-ropes ; and the officer informed me that the brigade
was that of General Compere, before whom he led me.
Rolled up in a cloak, the general was seated at the foot
of a tree: behind him stood his mounted orderly, holding
his charger by the bridle. His aide-de-camp and a num-
berof officers lounged round him, smoking cigars, drinking
wine from a little barrel, and joking with great hilarity,
ere they marched. The ashes of the watch-fires smoul-
dered near, the mist was curling between the branches of
the leafless trees, and the rising sun glittered on the bright
lance-heads, the gay caps, and accoutrements, of the dash-
ing lancers, who were rapidly unpiqueting them chargers,
and forming close column of squadrons, on the skirts of
the wood.
" Monsieur le vicomte is welcome as flowers in spring,"
said the general; " but who is this ?—Ah!" he exclaimed,
suddenly recognizing me, and raising politely his cocked-
hat. " I did not expect to have this pleasure. You are
the brave officer I met at Maida?"
I bowed.
" And again behind our lines at Cassano—disguised as
a monk ?" he added, with a keen glance.
" Thrown upon that coast by shipwreck, I gladly adopted
any disguise, until I could escape."
" Our whole army heard of you, and understood you
had been employed as a spy by the count of Maida;
consequently, Massena was enraged at your escape.
Ah! the old Tambour—he is a rough dog! How-
ever, monsieur, I do not believe that one who could fight
so gallantly at Maida, would stoop to act a dishonourable
part."
" Yet, will monsieur be so good as explain," said an-
other officer, " how we find him here, without the lines
drawn round Scylla, to the garrison of which he says he
belongs—and why in the garb of a Calabrian ?"
Indignant at the suspicious nature of these queries, and
•unused to the humiliating situation of a prisoner, I re-
plied briefly and haughtily, relating how I had missed the
450
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
boat—a story which none of them seemed to believe. A
whisper ran round, and the offensive term " espion,"
brought the blood rushing to my cheek.
" Monsieur le general," said I, with a sternness of man-
ner which secured their respect, "will, I trust—in memory
of that day at Maida—be so generous as to send me,
on parole, to Messina, where I may treat about an ex-
change. By doing so, he will confer a lasting obligation,
which the fortune of war may soon put it in my power to
repay."
"I deeply regret that to General Regnier I must refer
you—he, alone, can grant your request. As we move
instantly on Scylla, you must be transmitted to head-
quarters without delay, and under escort. Appearances
are much against you, but I trust matters will be cleared
up. Chataillion," said he to his aide, " help the gentleman
to wine and a cigar, while I write a rough outline of this
affair to monsieur le general."
Commanding my feelings and features, I drank a glass
or two of wine, while the general, taking pen and ink
from his sabretache, wrote a hasty note to Regnier.
" Chataillion," said he, while folding it, " order a cor-
poral and a file of lances."
The vicomte went up to the first regiment of the
brigade, and returned with the escort.
" In the charge of these soldiers, you must be sent to
Seminara, where I trust your parole will be accepted, in
consequence of this note ; though monsieur le general and
monseigneur le marechal, are far from being well disposed
towards you, especially for the last affair with the volti-
geurs of the 23rd. Ah! Regnier's son Philip was
shot at Bagnara—poor boy! Adieu! May we meet
under more agreeable circumstances," and giving the letter
to the corporal, Compere sprang into his, saddle, and left
me. His aide-de-camp, the Vicomte de Chataillion, see-
ing how deeply I was cast down, expressed regret at
having been my capturer. " But monsieur will perceive,"
said he, with a most insinuating smile, " that I was only
doing my duty. You cannot travel on foot with a mounted
escort—it would be dishonourable, and as I have a spare
horse, you are welcome to it; on reaching Seminara, or
even the frontiers, you can return it with the corporal.
Adieu!" And we parted.
CAPTTTBED BY THE ENEMY.—THE TWO GENEBALS. 451
The frontier! distraction! I could scarcely thank the
young Frenchman; but memory yet recalls his gallant
presence and commanding features—one of the true old
noblesse. How different he was from Pepe, Regnier,
Massena, and many others, whom the madness and crimes
of the Revolution had raised to place and power, from the
dregs of the French people.
With a little ostentation, the lancers loaded their pistols
before me, and in five minutes I was en route for Semi-
nara, with a file on each side, and the corporal riding
behind. I often looked back; Compere's brigade were
riding in sections towards the hills, with all their lance-
heads and bright accoutrements glittering in the sun,
while the fanfare of the trumpets, the clash of the cymbals,
and the roll of the kettledrums, rang in the woods of
Palmi. They were moving towards Scylla, and my heart
■swelled when I thought of my helplessness, and of poor
Bianca; the hope of Regnier accepting my parole alone
sustained me, but that hope was doomed to be cruelly dis-
appointed.
By the way, we passed many ghastly objects, which an-
nounced the commencement of that savage war of extermi
nation, which General Manhes afterwards prosecuted in
the Calabrias. Many armed peasantry had been shot, like
beasts of prey, wherever the French fell in with them,
and their bodies hung on the trees we passed under, while
their grisly heads were stuck on poles by the roadside.
Some were in iron cages, and, reduced to bare skulls,
grinned through the rusty ribs like spectres through
barred helmets ; while the birds of prey, screaming and
flapping their wings over them, increased the gloomy
effect such objects must necessarily have upon one's
spirits.
The morning was balmy and beautiful, the sun hot and
bright, the sky cloudless, and of the palest azure; light
fleecy vapour floated along the distant horizon, where the
sea lay gleaming, in green and azure; but never had I a
more unpleasant ride than that from Compere's bivouac.
I often looked round me, in the desperate hope that a sud-
den attack of robbers, or loyal paesani, would set me free,
though warned by the corporal, that on the least appear-
ance of an attempt at rescue, he would shoot me dead.
But Regnier had effectually cleared and scoured the
452 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
country, and we passed no living being, save an old 33asi-
lian piigrim, travelling barefooted, perhaps on his way to
the Eternal City; and once, in the distance, a solitary
bandit on the look-out, perched on the summit of a rock,
like a lonely heron. The bells of the mountain goats, the
bum of the bee, or the flap of the wild bird's wing, and
the dull tramp of our horses on the grassy way, alone
broke the silence. My escort were solemn and taciturn
Poles, who never addressed a word either to me or to each
other ; so my gloomy cogitations were uninterrupted till
we entered Seminara, when the scene changed.
The town was crowded with soldiers, and all the popu-
lace had fled; cavalry, infantry, artillery, sappeurs, vol-
tigeurs, and military artisans, thronged on every hand;
shirts and belts were drying at every window, and the air
was thickened by pipe-clay and tobacco-smoke, while the
sound of drums, bugles, and trumpets, mingled with
shouts and laughter, rang through the whole place—
noise and uproar reigning on all sides. The great Greek
abbey and cathedral were littered with straw, for cavalry
horses ; the principal street was blocked up by waggons,
caissons, tumbrils, pontoons, mortars, and the whole of
that immense battering-train, concentrated for the espe-
cial behoof of my brave little band at Scylla, whither
it would be conveyed the moment the roads were com-
pleted.
A strong guard of grenadiers, stationed before the best
house in the town, announced it to be the quarters of the
general. They belonged to the 62nd of the French line.
In front of the mansion stood thirty pieces of beautiful
brass cannon, the same which the French threw into the
sea on abandoning Scylla, when, in the year following, the
British beleaguered it under Lieutenant-Colonel Smith,
27th regiment. I was ushered by the corporal into the gene-
ral's presence, and found bim just finishing breakfast; he
had pushed away his last cup of chocolate, placed his foot
on the braciere, and was composing himself to resume
reading the Moniteur, while his servant, a grenadier, in
blue uniform, with rough iron-grey moustaches, cleared
the table. On the wall, hung a bombastic bulletin of
Napoleon, dated 27th December, 1806 :—
" The Neapolitan dynasty has ceased to reign ! its ex-
istence is incompatible with the repose of Europe, and the
CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY.—THE TWO GENERALS. 453
honour of our crown. Soldiers, march, and if they will
await your attack, drive into the sea those feeble batta-
lions of the tyrants of the ocean—lose no time in making
all Italy subject to my arms !"
Probably the Moniteur contained some unpleasant ac-
count of our brilliant success in other parts of the world,
for the temper of the general was soured, and he regarded
me with a most vinegar-like aspect, when the corporal
ushed me in. I bowed coldly; he answered only by a
stern glance, spread his hands behind his coat-tails, and
leaned against the mantelpiece.
" Ouf! a prisoner of war," said he, and scanning me
at intervals, while reading the letter of Compere.
" Your name and rank ?"
" Dundas, captain of the 62nd regiment of the line, and
commandant of the castle of Scylla, for his Majesty Fer-
dinand IV."
" Ouf! the very man we wanted! You were caught on
the shore, near Palmi ?"
"Yes, when left there by the boat of the Electra frigate,
and merely meaning to make a reconnoissance (until day-
break enabled us to put to sea), I penetrated— "
" A deuced lame story! Bah! you were merely
making a reconnoissance at Canne too, I suppose ? Ha!
ha! well, we will cure you of that propensity, for the
future."
" I request to be liberated on my parole."
"A spy on parole ! Ouf!"
"Scoundrel!" I exclaimed, losing all temper, "I am a
gentleman—a British officer."
" Sacre coquin! men of honour do not prowl in the rear
of an enemy's chaine de quartiers in disguise ; where is
your uniform ?"
I gave him a scornful glance, in reply.
" Ouf!" said he, "you came to see our arrangements
for capturing your crow's-nest at Scylla. Behold, then,
our pontoons, our battering-train, our brigades of infantry
and sappers; I trust you will report to monseigneur the
prince of Essling, that they are all ready for instant
service."
" Monsieur, I demand my parole."
" If Massena grants a parole, he may, but not so Peg-
nier; you must be sent to the marshal, and I believe he is
454 ADVENTITEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
most likely to give you a yard or two of stout cord, and a
leap from the nearest tree."
" Such conduct would not surprise me iu the least," I
answered, bitterly : " the savage military government,
which dragged the Due d'Enghien from a neutral terri-
tory, and after a mockery of judicial form shot him by
torchlight at midnight, and which so barbarously tortured
to death a British officer, in the Temple, at Paris, must be
capable of any inhumanity. After the ten thousand name-
less atrocities by which France, since the days of the
Revolution, has disgraced herself among the nations of
Europe, no new violation of military honour, of humanity,
or the laws of civilized nations, can be a subject of
wonder."
"Ah, faquin! I could order you to be hanged in ten
minutes."
" A day may yet come when this ruffianly treatment
shall be repaid."
" Ouf! monsieur mouchard, Massena will look to that.
At Castello di Bivona, you will be embarked on board La
Vigilante, courier gun-boat, commanded by Antonio
Balotte. He is a rough Lucchese, that same Antonio
who will string you to the yard-arm, if you prove trouble-
some. Ouf! if the emperor was of my opinion, his soldiers
would not take any prisoners." He grinned savagely,
and summoned his orderly.
" Order a corporal and file of soldiers. To them," he
continued, addressing the lancer, "you will hand over
the prisoner, with this brief despatch, for Marshal Mas-
sena, at Cosenza; it states who he is, and the suspicions
against him."
Massena! O, how little I had to hope for, if once in the
clutches of that savage and apostate Italian, particularly
when blackened by all that Regnier's malicious nature
might dictate. In half an hour, I was on the march for
Castello di Bivona, escorted by a corporal, and file of the
101st, with fixed bayonets. As a deeper degradation,
Regnier had ordered me to be handcuffed. Heavens ! my
blood boils yet at the recollection of that! I would have
resisted, but a musket levelled at my head silenced all re-
monstrance, and I bottled up my wrath, while Corporal
Crapaud locked the fetters on me. We marched off, my
exasperation increasing as we proceeded, for the escort
CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY.—THE TWO GENERALS. 455
seemed determined to consider me in the character of a
spy, and consequently treated me with insult and neglect;
in Tain I told them I was a British officer, and deserved
other treatment.
" True, monsieur," replied the corporal, who was a dap-
per little Gaul, four feet six inches high, " but I am
obeying only the orders of the general; and a British
officer, or any other officer, who is caught among an
enemy's cantonments in disguise, must be considered
as a spy, and expect degradation as such. Monsieur
Will excuse us—we have orders not to converse with
prisoners; and the general—ah! ventre bleu !—he is a
man of iron! "
This coolness, or affectation of contempt or superiority,
only increased my annoyance. Although the soldiers
conversed with all the loquacity and sung with all the
gaiety of Frenchmen, they addressed me no more during
the march of more than twenty-five miles. Thislasted seven
hours, exclusive of halts at Gioja, Rossarno, and severalhalf-
deserted villages and shepherds' huts, where they extorted
whatever they wanted, at point of the bayonet, and made
good their quarters whenever they chose; browbeating
the men and caressing the women (11 pretty). I often ex-
pected a brawl, and perhaps a release; but all hope died
away, when, about sunset, we entered Castello di Bivona:
my spirit fell in proportion as the plains and snow-capped
Apennines grew dark, when the red sun dipped into the
Tyrrhene Sea.
There were no French troops in the town; but, anchored
close to the shore, lay the French gun-boat La Vigilante,
mounting a six and a fourteen-pounder, and having thirty-
six men—quite sufficient to hold in terror the inhabitants
of the little town, who had not forgotten the visit paid
them by Kegnier's rear-guard. My heart sickened when,
from an eminence, I beheld La Vigilante, which was to
bear me further from liberty and hope; and the most
acute anguish took possession of me, when confined for
the night and left to my own sad meditations. I under-
stood that I was to be transmitted to the Upper Province
with some other prisoners, who were to arrive from Monte-
leone in the morning, and be conveyed across the Gulf of
St. Eufemio by the gun-boat.
I found myself confined for the night in the upper
456 ADVENTURES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
apartment of a gloomy tower, formed of immense blocks
of stone, squared and built by the hands of the Locrians.
The chamber was vaulted, damp, and destitute of furniture;
but a bundle of straw was thrown in, for my couch, by
Corporal Crapaud : he, with the escort, occupied a cham-
ber below, where they caroused and played with dominoes.
A turf battery of four twenty-four pounders, facing the
seaward, showed that the French had converted this rem-
nant of the ancient Hipponium into a temporary fort; a
trench and palisade surrounded it.
A single aperture, a foot square, four feet from the floor,
and crossed by an iron bar, admitted the night breeze and
the rays of the moon ; showing the dark mountains, the
blue sky, and the sparkling stars.
Left to solitude, my own thoughts soon became insup-
portable. " At this time yesternight, I was with Bianca!"
To be separated from her for an uncertain time—perhaps
for ever, if Begnier's threats were fulfilled by the relentless
Massena ; to be taken from my important command at a
time so critical—when the last stronghold of the British
in Calabria was threatened by a desperate siege, on the
issue of which the eyes of all Italy and Sicily were turned;
the imminent danger and degrading suspicions under
which I lay, manacled and imprisoned like a common
felon; threatened on the one hand with captivity, on the
other with death; and, worst of all, the image of Bianca,
overwhelmed with sorrow and horror by the obscurity
which enveloped my fate : all combined, tortured me to
madness. I was in a state bordering on distraction.
Stone walls, iron bars, and steel bayonets: alas ! these are
formidable barriers to liberty.
Midnight tolled from a distant bell, then all became
still: so still, that I heard my heart beating. Deeming
me secure, my escort were probably sleeping over their
cups and dominoes. I was encouraged to attempt escaping,
and endeavoured to rally my thoughts. Though half worn
out by our long march over detestable roads—a journey
rendered more toilsome by the constrained position of my
fettered hands—I became fresh and strong, and gathered
courage from the idea. Yonder lay the Vigilante, with
her latteen sail hanging loose; and the sight of her was
an additional spur to exertion: once on board of her, every
hope was cut off for ever.
CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY.—THE TWO GENERALS. 457
The detested fetters—two oval iron rings secured by a
padlock and bar—were first to be disposed of: but bow P
The manner in wbicb they secured tbe wrists crippled my
strength: tbe iron bar was a foot long, and tbougb defy-
ing my utmost strength to break or bend it, yet ultimately
it proved tbe means of setting me free. Tbe padlock was
strong and new: but a happy thought struck me; I forced
it between the wide and time.-worn joints of the wall until
it was wedged fast, as in a vice, then, clasping my hands
together, I wrenched round the bar, using it as a lever on
the lock, which passed through it; and in an instant the
bolt, the wards, the plates which confined them, and all the
ironwork of the once formidable little engine, fell at my
feet.
" God be thanked ! oh, triumph! " burst in a whisper
from my lips: my heart expanded, and I could have
laughed aloud, while stretching my stiffened hands. But
there was no time to be lost: the fall of the broken pad-
lock might have alarmed the escort, and I prepared for
instant flight. Thrusting some of the iron pieces under
the door bolts, to prevent it being readily opened, I turned
to the window, and found, with joy, that there was space
enough between the cross-bar and the wall for egress : but
the ground was fifteen feet below. With great pain and
exertion, I pressed through, and, half suffocated, nearly
stuck midway between the rusty bar and stone rybate.
At that moment of misery and hope, the corporal thun-
dered at the door; I burst through, fell heavily to the
ground, and for a moment was stunned by the fall: but
the danger of delay, and the risk of being instantly shot,
if retaken, compelled me to be off double-quick. I rushed
up the banquette of the gun-battery, cleared the parapet
at a bound, and scrambled over the stockade like a squirrel.
"Vilain, hola! halte!" cried Crapaud, firing his musket.
The ball whistled through my hair, and next moment I
was flying like a deer with the hounds in full chase. I
was closely pursued; but, after three narrow escapes from
the bullets of my escort, I baffled them, and gained in
safety the cork-wood of Bivona.
458
adventuees oe an aide-de-camp.
CHAPTER LXIII.
the albeego.—the bandit's bevenge.
Seeking a thick and gloomy dingle, I flung myself under
its shadow to rest; breathless with my recent exertion,
the long day's march, and the excitement of the last hour.
My plan was soon decided: to approach Scylla, from
which I was then nearly thirty miles distant, was my
principal object; but many dangerous obstacles were to
be encountered and overcome, before I stood in the hall
of Ruffo Sciglio. The snow melting among the Apennines
had swollen the Metramo and other rivers which I had to
pass; the towns, villages, and all the level country swarmed-
with French troops and Buonapartist sbirri or gendarmes,
all closing up towards the point of attack; while the woods
and mountains were infested by banditti, the most ferocious
and lawless in Europe. To lie concealed in thickets by
day, and to travel by night, was the plan I proposed adopt-
ing ; and anxious to find myself as far as possible from the
place of my imprisonment, after a brief rest I set forward
on my dubious and difficult journey, thinking more of the
joy of embracing Bianca, than the triumph of meeting
Regnier in the breach.
Many of the mountains being yet capped with snow,
rendered the air cold and chilly; my head was without
covering, and I was destitute of every means of defence
against either robbers or wolves : the last were numerous
in these wilds, and I often heard their cries rising up from-
the depths of the moonlit forest, through which I toiled
southward. So wearying, difficult, and uncertain was the
path, that I had only proceeded seven or eight miles when
day broke, and found me in an open and desert place near
Hicotera. The appearance of a body of the enemy march-
ing down the hills was sufficient to scare me, and, seeking
shelter in an orange-wood, I lay concealed in it for hours,
not daring to venture forth, although I felt the effects of
an appetite sharpened by the keen mountain air. I had
heard much of the manna said to be found in the morning
on the leaves of the mulberry and other trees in Calabria;
but not a drop was to be seen, although I searched anxiously
THE ALBEBG0.—THE BANDIT'S EEVENGE. 459
enough. The day seemed interminably long, and joyfully
I hailed eve closing as the sun sank once more behind
Sicily, and the long shadows of Nicotera fell across the
plain.
Armed with a stout club, torn from a tree, I once more
set forward, favoured by the dusk and refreshed by my
long halt, though hungry as a hawk.
At the hut of a poor charcoal-burner I received some
refreshment, and ascertained the right (or rather safest)
path ; the honest peasant, on partly learning the circum-
stances of my escape, shouldered his rifle, stuck a poniard
in his girdle, and accompanied me as far as G-ioja; where,
after showing me from the heights the French watch-fires
at Seminara, he left me. I was pleased when he did so,
for then only I became convinced that his intentions were
honest.. While t:
he was a hardy and loyal Calabrian, and my fears were
groundless. Regretting having brought him so far from
his hut, I gave Em three crowns, nearly all the money in
my possession. At first he refused it; but the temptation
was too great for the poor peasant, whose only attire was
a jacket of rough skin, a pair of tattered breeches, the
net which confined his ample masses of hair, and the
buff belt sustaining his dagger and powder-horn. Mut-
tering something about his little ones at home, he took
the reward, with many bows and protestations, and we
parted.
Rejoicing in my progress, I struck into a path up the
hills towards Oppido. The utmost circumspection was
now necessary,1 every avenue to Scylla being closely
guarded by Regi
woods and defile
swampy rice plantation, and severely cut and bruised by
the rocks and roots of trees, the night being so dark that
I could scarcely see my hand outstretched before me. A
sudden storm of rain and wind, which swept down from
the hills, completed my discomfiture; and I hailed with
joy a light which twinkled at the bottom of a deep and
savage dell, seeming, from the eminence on which I stood,
like a lantern at the bottom of a pit.
It proved to be an albergo, or lonely mountain-inn,
what suspicious
sentries. About
460 ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
but of the most wretched description. Exhausted and
weather-beaten as I was, the many unpleasant stories
I had heard of those suspicious places, and the close
connection of their owners with the banditti, occurred
to me; but this did not discourage me from knocking
at the door. Close to it stood a lumbering, old-
fashioned, Sicilian carriage, which announced a avisitor of
some importance; and the moment I knocked, a violent
altercation ensued as to whether or not the door should
be opened.
" Signor Albergatore," cried a squeaking voice, "open
the door at your peril! Open it—and 1 shall lay the
whole affair before his excellency the president of the
grand civil court."
The innkeeper uttered a tremendous oath, and opened
the door. A blazing fire of billets and sticks roared up the
opening which served for a chimney, and filled the whole
albergo with a ruddy fight. The host, a most forbidding-
looking dog, with only one eye, a lip and nose slashed by
what appeared to have been a sword-cut, and which re-
vealed all his upper teeth, growled a sullen welcome;
evidently nowise pleased with my splashed and miserable
appearance. But I was resolved to make good my billet,
and drawing close to the fire, took a survey of the com-
pany. It consisted of an important little personage,
whose face seemed the production of a cross between the
rat and weasel; a jovial young fellow, whose jaunty hat
and feather, green velvet jacket, and breeches of striped
cotton, rosy and impudent face, together with his little
mandolin, declared him to be a wandering improvisatore ;
and an old monk of St. Christiana (the neighbouring
town), who lay fast asleep in a corner, with his hands
crossed on his ample paunch, his shaven scalp shining like
a polished ball in the fight of the fire, which made his
white hair and beard glisten like silver as they flowed
over his coarse brown cassock.
The little personage before mentioned, was Ser Yillani,
the great notary of St. Eufemio: a more apt plunderer
of King Ferdinand's subjects than any robber in Cala-
bria: he was a thorough-paced lawyer, and conse-
quently a knave. Armed with a pass, which for a certain
consideration he had obtained from General Eegnier, he
was on his way from Gierazzo, where he had been collect-
THE ALBEBGO.—THE BANDITS BEVENGE. 461
ing information relative to an interminable process. The
grand civil court of Palermo was putting every judicial
instrument in operation to plunder the rich prince of
St. Agata, at the suit of a neighbouring abbey of monks,
whose relicario he was bound to keep in repair; he having
neglected to enclose the parings ,of the nails of San
Gennaro in a gilt box, these inestimable reliques were
lost, and his altezza was deprived of his cross of the
saint's order, and became liable to swinging damages.
All his notes on this most interesting case, SerVillani
carried in a legal green bag, which he grasped with legal
tenacity; and he looked at me from time to time with
glances of such distrust and dislike, that I concluded it
contained more than mere paper.
Three well-armed and wild-looking peasants were
sleeping in a corner, and the host wore a long knife in his
girche. Forbidding as he was in aspect, his wife and
daughter were still more so; their clothes exhibited a
strange mixture of finery and misery—massive silver
pendants and gold rings, chains, ra^s, and faded brocades ;
while their feet were shoeless. My suspicions increased,
and I found I had got into a lion's den.
" Signore Albergatore," said I, " do you fear banditti,
that you were so long in undoing the door ?"
" 'Twas the Signor Scrivano who raised so many ob-
jections," he replied, sulkily.
" Had Master Yillani known I was a cavalier of Malta
-escaping from the French, he might have been a little
more hospitable," I replied, to deceive them as to my
real character; for I dreaded being given up to Fegnier,
perhaps for the sake of a reward. "Who occupy the
mountains hereabout?"
" Scarolla and Baptistello Varro," replied the host.
*' But they never visit so poor an albergo as this."
" I hope not," faltered«the notary, who turned ghastly
pale at the name of Varro ; and muttering to himself, he
glanced uneasily at us all, with eyes that glittered like
those of a monkey. " Ah, when will that loitering
scoundrel of a postilion return with a smith, to repair ^he
calesso ? Hound! he contrived very opportunely that the
wheel should come off close by the albergo ; but let him
beware; his neck shall pay the forfeit, if worse comes
of this."
2 H
462
ADVENTUEES OE AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
A quiet laugh spread over the host's face, like sunshine
over a field.
" Ser," said the improvisatore, " your postilion is pro-
bably only away to the next hill; and when he returns, a
score of riflemen will be at his back."
The little notary quaked; and although the cunning
minstrel merely spoke in jest, his suppositions were
indeed too correct. The secret understanding which ex-
isted between the brigands, postilions, and innkeepers of
South Italy, was notorious; it has formed the ma-
chinery of innumerable tales of fiction. But since the
campaign of Manhes, and the close of the war, Italy has
been quite regenerated.
The improvisatore received a furious glance from the
host, that confirmed my suspicions ; but to retire now
was almost impossible.
After a miserable supper had been washed down by a
caraffa of tart country wine, we drew closer to the smoky
fire, and composed ourselves round it for the night. The
wife and daughter of the host retired to a kind of loft
above; resigning the only bed in the house,—viz., a bag
of leaves and a blanket or two, to the priest. Thenotary
nodded over his green bag, and though he started at every
sound, pretended to be fast asleep.
Notwithstanding my fatigue, thoughts stole over me
and kept me awake; and more than once I saw the dark
glassy eye of the host observing me intently from the
gloomy corner where he lay on the tiled floor. In short,
not to keep the reader any longer behind the curtain, we
were in one of those infamous dens which were the resort
of the brigands, to whom the keepers conveyed informa-
tion of all travellers who passed the night with them,
stating whether they were armed, or escorted by soldiers
or sbirri. The suspicious improvisatore again whispered
3 postilion was
, - utmost anxiety,
but retiring might only anticipate matters; the fellows
asleep in the corner were well armed, and I saw the hilts
of their knives and pistol-butts shining in the light of
the fire.
"Iam glad we have a cavalier of Malta here to-night,"
whispered the lad with the guitar. "You may save
banditti. Be-
THE ALBEBGO.—THE BANDIT'S EEVENGE. 463
us all from Baptistello, if lie pays us a visit—all, one
excepted; but, signor, you have very much the air of an
Englishman."
" I served with the English fleet when it assisted the
knights at the siege of Yaletta. But I hope the rogues
will not carry me off in expectation of a ransom."
" Madonna forbid ! But Heaven help poor Villani, if
he fall into the clutches of Baptistello!"
"Why so?"
" Signor, it is quite a story !" said he, drawing closer,
and lowering his voice. " Baptistello was a soldier of
the Cardinal Buffo, and served in his army when it de-
feated the Erench in the battle of Naples, on the happy
5th of June. His father, Baptiste, was a famous bravo
and capo-bandito, who infested the mountains above
St. Agata, and was the terror of the province from Scylla
to La Bianca. He boasted that he had slain a hundred
men; and it is said, that in order to rival the frightful
Mammone, he once quaffed human blood. He was
deemed bullet-proof; a charm, worn round his left wrist,
made him invulnerable; and he escaped so often and so
narrowly, that he soon thought so himself. His presence
inspired terror, and no man dared to travel within
twenty miles of his district without a numerous escort.
The prince of St. Agata, lord of that territory, alone
treated his name with contempt, and daily drove his
carriage through the wildest haunt of Baptiste, without
attendants.
" One day they met: it was in a lonely valley near the
Alece.
" ' Stand!' cried the gigantic robber, kneeling behind a
rock, over which he levelled his rifle. The reins fell from
the hands of the driver.
" ' Villain! fire, if you dare !' cried the prince.
" The robber fired, ,and his bullet passed through
the hat of the prince, who levelling a double-barrelled
pistol, shot four balls through the heart of his assailant.
Before the arrival of the banditti, who with shouts were
rushing down from the mountains, the prince was driving
at full gallop through the valley, with the body of Varro
lashed to the hind axle-bar, and trailing along the
dusty road. Thus he entered Beggio in triumph, like
Achilles dragging Hector round the walls of Troy. The
464
ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
body was gibbeted, and tbe head placed in an iron
cage and sent over to Messina; when it was stuck on
the summit of the Zizi palace, where it yet remains,
bleached by the dew by night and the sun by day: I
saw it three days ago.
" One night, soon after this, a ragged little urchin pre-
sented himself in an apartment of the palace, just before
the prince retired to rest.
" ' Who are you, Messerino ? ' he asked.
" 'Baptistello, the son of old Baptiste Yarro.'
"'Ah! and what do you want?' said the prince,
looking round him for a whip or cane.
" ' My father's head.'
" ' Away, you little villain, ere you are tossed out of the
window! I would not give it for a thousand scudi.'
" ' For two thousand, serenissimo ?'
" ' Yes, rogue, for so many I might.'
" ' On your word of honour ?'
" ' An impudent little dog! Yes. Away!—when you
fetch me such a sum, per Baccho! you shall have your
father's head; but not till then.'
" ' Enough, excellency ; I will redeem it, and keep my
word. San Gennaro judge between us, and curse the
wretch who fails!'
" ' A bold little rogue, and deserves the old villain's
head for nothing,' muttered the prince. ' Two thousand
scudi! Ah, poor boy! where will he ever get such a
sum ?'
" The prince soon forgot all about it; but Baptistello,
inspired by that intense filial veneration for which our
Calabrian youth are so famous, worked incessantly to
raise the two thousand scudi—a mighty sum for him;
but he did not despair. He dug in the vineyards and
rice-fields by day, in the iron-mines of Stilo by night, and
begged in cities when he had nothing else to do; and
slowly the required sum began to accumulate. When
old enough to level the rifle, by his mother's advice, he
took to his father's haunts, and turned bandit. Then the
gold increased rapidly; and, regularly as he acquired it,
he transmitted the ill-gotten ransom to Ser Yillani, of
St. Eufemio; leaving the gold in the hollow of a certain
tree, where the notary found it, and left a full receipt for
each amount.
THE ALBEEG0.—THE BANDIT'S EEVENGE.
465
" When the two thousand pieces were numbered,
Baptistello presented himself before Villani in the disguise
of a Basilian, requesting him to pay Prince St. Agata the
money and redeem the bare-bleached skull, which grins so
horribly from the battlements of the Palazzo Zizi. They
met at the porch of the great church, where the notary
"had just been hearing mass. He denied ever having re-
ceived a quattrino of the money : not a single piece had he
ever seen—' Ho, by the miraculous blood of Gennaro !'
" ' Behold your signed receipts, Master Scrivano.'
" ' Via! they are forgeries. Away, or I will summon
the officers of justice.'
" ' My two thousand scudi! — my hard-won money,
earned at peril of my soul! Beturn it, thou most in-
famous of robbers !' cried the infuriated Varro, grasping
the notary's throat, and unsheathing his poniard.
" ' Help, in the name of the Grand Court!' shrieked
Villani. Baptistello was arrested, imprisoned in the
fearful Damusi, and kept there for months; he was
then scourged with rods, and thrust forth, naked and
bleeding, to perish in the streets, while the money, earned
with so much toil and danger, went to enrich the dishonest
notary. Baptistello is on the mountains above us ; and if
Villani falls into his hands this night, Signor Cavaliere,
thou mayest imagine the sequel."
The improvisatore ceased, and I saw the keen, twinkling
eyes of the notary watching me : he must have heard the
whole story, while affecting to sleep, and, trembling vio-
lently, he clutched his legal green bag. Suddenly, some
one tapped at the casement, and I saw a large, fierce, and
grim face peering in.
" Ha !" cried the notary, springing up : " 'tis the cales-
siero returned at last. Thou loitering villain ! I will teach
you how to respect a member of the grand civil court of
Sicily."
He opened the door, and — horror!—instead of the
humble and apologizing postilion, there stood the tall,
athletic form of Baptistello Varro, clad in his glittering
bandit costume. Had the notary encountered thus the
great head of his profession, face to face, he could not
have been more overwhelmed with dismay: he seemed
absolutely to shrink in size before the stern gaze of the
formidable robber, whose entrance scarcely less alarmed
466 ADVENTUBES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
the old priest, the poor improvisatore, and myself. But,
remembering my former adventures with Varro, I was not
without hope of escape. The albergo was crowded with
his savage followers, and we were all dragged roughly
forth as prisoners. The notary's hired calesso was under-
going a thorough search : the lining was all torn out, and
every panel and. cushion were pierced and slashed, while
the contents of his trunks and mails were scattered in
every direction, and flying on the breeze. In his green
bag, were found a thousand ducats.
" Villain !" exclaimed Baptistello, as he threw the gold
pieces on the sward, " there is more than we would deem
sufficient to ransom ten such earth-worms as thee; yet
this is but a half of the sum I deposited in the hollow tree
at St. Eufemio. I am a robber—true: but I gain my
desperate living bravely in the wilderness, by perilling my
life hourly; while thou, too, art a thief, but of the most
despicable and cowardly description—a legalized plunderer
of widows and orphans—a vampire, who preys on the
very vitals of the community—a smooth-faced masterpiece
of villany : in short, wretch, thou art a notary. Eemem-
ber the ransom of my father's head—the dungeons—the
chains, and the scourge. Ha! remember, too, that thou
art alone with me on the wild mountains of Calabria;
so, kneel to the God above us, for the last sands of thy
life are ebbing fast." And he dashed him to the
earth.
" O signor—O excellency—mercy !" craved the notary,
grovelling in the dust; but the fierce robber only grinned,
showing his pearl-white teeth, as, leaning on his rifle, he
surveyed him with an air of triumphant malice and su-
preme contempt. " Mercy ! I implore you, by the blood
of Gennaro the blessed! Mercy, as you hope for it at
your dying day. I will repay the money. I will no
longer be a notary, but an honest man."
"Wretch! such mercy will be given as tigers give,"
cried the ferocious Baptistello, spurning the poor man with
his foot, and holding aloft his crucifix. "By this holy
symbol of our salvation, I have sworn that thy head shall
pay the forfeit for my father's." The brigand kissed it.
Though all hope died away in the heart of the notary, he
still poured forth a jargon of alternate prayers, threats,
and entreaties : his agony was terrible, for, at that moment,
THE ALBEBGO.—THE BANDIT'S BEVENGE. 467
forty years of the "sharpest practice" were about to be
accounted for.
" God! I dare not address myself to thee. O, holy
father, pray for me in this great peril!" he cried, to the
old monk of St. Christiana. " Supplicate Him for a sinner,
that has forgotten how to pray for himself."
" Buono !" said Baptistello, " let the priest pray while
the notary swings."
Lancelloti approached, and surveyed me with an inso-
lent leer : he held a rope—the reins of the lawyer's mules;
in a moment it was looped round the notary's neck, and
the other end thrown over the arm of a beech-tree. The
monk, kneeling on the sod, prayed with fervour—increased,
probably, by anxiety for himself. The struggles of the
poor wretch were horrible to behold : overcome with the
terror of death, he fought like a wild beast, scratching,
biting, and howling; but, in the strong grasp of his power-
ful destroyers, his efforts were like those of an infant. In
a minute, he swung from the branch of the beech, while,
with a stern smile of grim satisfaction, the robber watched
the plunges of his victim, writhing in the death-agony—
the sharp, withered features growing ghastly, as the pale
light of the dawning day fell on their distorted lines. But
enough.
"Signor Canonico," said Yarro, "you may go; the
mountains are before you—we meddle not with monks."
The priest retired instantly, without bestowing a thought
on his companions in trouble. " And who are you, signor,
with the mandolin ?" continued Baptistello.
"An improvisatore, from Sicily last, excellency," replied
the lad, doffing his hat with all humility ; "I have conie
to rouse my countrymen, by the song and guitar, to battle
against the legions of Massena, as they did of old against
the Saracen and Goth. I am but a poor lad, and have
no ransom to offer, save a song of the glorious Marco
Sciarra; not a paola can I give your excellencies: my
sole inheritance is this guitar, which my father gave me
with his dying hand (for he, too, was an improvisatore),
when he fell in battle, under the banner of Cardinal Buffo."
"Where, boy?"
" On the plains of Apulia: I was a little child then,"
said the lad, shedding tears. " See, the mandolin is stained
with his blood."
458
adventub.es of an aide-de-camp.
" Benissimo!". exclaimed the band, who crowded
round us.
" Thou, too, art free, for we war not with the poor.
Away ! follow the monk, and the Virgin speed thee." But
the minstrel bestowed an anxious glance on me, and drew
near, scorning to imitate the selfish priest, who had now
disappeared from the path, which wound over the bright-
ening mountains.
" Your name, signor ?" asked Varro, surveying me with
a glance of surprise, and seeming puzzled what to think
of me.
" Dundas, captain in the British service, and commandant
of Scylla," I replied, with haughty brevity.
" The friend of Castelermo, and who so bravely avenged
his death on the renegade Navarro—is it not so?"
" The same, Signor Capo: for two days past, I have
undergone great misery, and last night made a most
miraculous escape from the troops of General Begnier."
" Who has offered a hundred gold Napoleons for you,
dead or alive : a sum quite sufficient to excite the avarice
and cupidity of a Calabrian outlaw."
My spirit sank—I made no reply, but cursed the Trench
general in my heart.
" Courage, signor," said Baptistello, laying his hand
familiarly on my shoulder; "think not so hardly of us :
we all love the British soldiers, and would not yield you
to Begnier for all the gold in France. We have not
forgotten Maida—eh, comrades ?"
" Viva il Be d'lnghilterra!" answered the band, with
one voice. (It was the cry of the loyalists, as often as
" Viva Ferdinando IV.")
"You hear the sentiments of my followers," said Varro j
" truly, signor, as the husband of the Signora d'Alfieri, your
name is dear to the whole Calabrians, and I believe the
wildest rogue in these provinces would- not touch a hair
of your head. Corpo di Baccho! you must breakfast with
us among the mountains : we trust to your honour for not
revealing our fastness to our disadvantage—to our own
hands for avenging it, if you do. Enough, signor! we
know each other."
I was in the hands of men with whom it would have
been rash to trifle, and, accepting the rough invitation, I
accompanied them across the hills. The sun rose above
bandit's cavern.—recapture and deliverance. 469,
the highest peak of Bova, and poured its fiery lustre into
the dark-green valleys, gilding the convent vanes and
little spires of St. Christiana and Oppido, and exhaling the
mist from the black glittering rocks, the sable pines, and
verdant slopes of the Apennines.
CHAPTER LXIV.
the bandit's cavern.—recapture and deliverance.
Through a long, deep gorge, winding between basaltic
cliffs, the production of volcanic fire, or formed by some
great convulsion which had rent the massive hills, we
scrambled along for nearly half a mile; at the end, rose a
wall of rock, on ascending which, by means of a ladder,
I found myself in the den of the banditti. The ladder
being drawn up when the last man ascended, all communi-
cation with the chasm below was thus cut off.
A fire burned brightly in a recess of the cavern,
revealing its ghastly rocks and hollow depths, the long
stalactites, the crystals, and various sparkling stones which
glimmered in the flames as they shot upward through the
cranny that served for a chimney. Several females,
grouped round it, were engaged in chatting, quarrelling,
and cooking; and their picturesque costumes, olive com-
plexions, and graceful figures, were brought forward in
strong warm fight, by the flickering flames : some had
still the sad remains of beauty, and their Greco-Italian
features still wore the soft, Madonna-like expression of the
southern provinces, though, alas! their innocence had
fled; others were sullen, forbidding, or melancholy, and
all were laden with tawdry finery and massive jewels.
The aspect of the cavern—one part glaring with lurid
fight, the other half involved in gloom, where its mys-
sterious recesses pierced into the bowels of the mountain;
the women, with their full bosoms, large black eyes, and
sandalled feet, their glossy hair braided into tails, or
flowing in dishevelled ringlets ; the bearded banditti,
some in their well-known costume, others in a garb of
rough skins, showing their bare legs and arms—their
rifles, knives, pistols, and horns, sparkling when they
470 adventubes of an aide-de-camp.
moved—formed a striking scene. Looking outward, also,
a view of the distant sea, the smoke of Stromboli piercing
the infinity of space above it, the spire of Eiumara, the
vine-clad ruins of a Grecian temple, and the long, bright
river that wound between the hills towards it, formed a
subject for the pencil, such as would have raised the
enthusiasm of Salvator Rosa, who, in pursuit of the
savagely romantic, sojourned for a time among the
wilds, the beauties, the terrors, and the banditti of
Calabria.
Chocolate, kid's flesh stewed, eggs, milk, dried grapes,
and wine, composed the repast: when it was finished, the
poor improvisatore, though not quite at ease, found
himself compelled to sing, and chose for his theme
Makco Sciaeea, the glory of the Abruzzesi, whose fame
and memory the honest man and the bandit alike extol.
He sang in ottiva rima, and tinkled an accompaniment
with his guitar, while every ear listened intently.
The scene opened in the wilds of Abruzzi; Marco was
at the head of his thousand followers, and in all the
plenitude of his power and terror—that chivalric brigand-
ism which gained him the title of Re della Campagna;
then we were told how, kneeling by the wayside, he kissed
the hand of Tasso, and did homage to the muse 5 how
successfully he warred with Clement VII. and the count
of Conversano, and then fought the battles of the Yene-
tians against their Tuscan enemies; of his bravery, his
loves, his compassion, and countless escapes, we all heard
in succession, down to that hour when, in the marches of
Ancona, he met Battimello, his former friend, who, while
embracing him, in the true spirit of Italian treachery,
struck a dagger in his heart, and sold his head to a papal
commissary.
Every eye flashed as the minstrel concluded; a groan
of rage, mingled with a burst of applause, shook the
vaulted cavern, for the theme was one well calculated to
interest his hearers deeply, and one very pretty young
woman threw her arms around the improvisatore, and
kissed him on both cheeks. While all were thus well
pleased, we took our departure, and were very glad when
the cavern and its inmates were some miles behind us.
On bidding adieu to Baptistello, I promised to have his
father's head sent from Messina, if I lived to reach that
BANDIT'S CAVERN.—RECAPTURE AND DELIVERANCE. 471
city in safety. He kissed my hand, and a dark smile lit
up the features of Lancelloti : I was too soon to
learn the ideas passing in the mind of that abominable
traitor.
There is, generally, a romance about the Italian
outlaw, which raises his character far above that of the
mere pickpocket or housebreaker. The danger encoun-
tered in the course of his desperate profession, and the
wild scenery around him, were all calculated to inspire
him with a tinge of heroism: were, I say, for the real
Italian brigand may now, happily, be classed with the
things which are past. Without being guilty of any
premeditated crime, many were forced upon that terrible
career by the French invasion, or by too freely using
their knives in those outbursts of anger and revenge to
which the hot blood of the southern climes is so prone;
but to some good feelings lingering in those hearts,
which danger and despair had not completely hardened,
I owed my safety in these various encounters with the
wild bravos of Calabria.
But the most dangerous was yet to come. The reward
offered by Regnier for my recapture had" excited the
avarice of Lancelloti, who was then tracking me over the
hills, intent on my destruction. On parting with the
'he poor notary yet hung,
my way, as warily as possible, to avoid the enemy;
for a continual pop—pop—popping in the distance, and
the appearance of white smoke curling on the mountain
sides and from the leafless, though budding, forests,
announced that the French advanced parties were skir-
mishing with the brigands and armed paesani, and kept
me continually on the alert. Dread of the effect of
Regnier's reward compelled me to avoid every man I met;
so my route soon became equally toilsome and devious.
Yet, though exhausted by travelling and loss of sleep, I
was animated by a view of Scylla's distant towers and
terraces, which rose above the woodlands gleaming in the
rays of the joyous sun, and continued to press forward,
until, completely overcome with fatigue, I threw myself
on the green sward, under the cool shade of a pine
thicket, and fell into a deep sleep.
This happy slumber, which, after a long march under
round him, I continued
472
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
the scorching heat of noon, the cool shade rendered so
refreshing, had lasted, perhaps, an hour, when I was
roughly roused by the smart application of a rifle-butt to
the side of my head. Starting up, I found myself in the
grasp of Lancelloti and two others of Yarro's band: alas !
weary and unarmed, what resistance could I offer ? They
were strong, fresh, and armed to the teeth; solitude was
around us, and no aid near : every hope of escape
vanished.
" Yia, Signor Inglese," said one ; " did you mean to
sleep there all day?"
" Beard of Mahomet!" said Lancelloti, with a scowl;
"you had better make use of your legs."
" Your purpose, scoundrels ?"
" To deliver you to the French commandant at Fiuma-
ra," replied the ci-devant priest and pirate. " Madonna!
a hundred pieces of gold are not to be despised. Look
you, signor; I swear by the light of Heaven to blow your
brains out on the first attempt to escape!—so fill the
foreyard—maladetto! Bemember, I am Osman Carora—
ha! ha!"
" Wretch! would you murder me in cold blood, and
thus add to the guilt accumulated on your unhappy head ?"
" Cospetto! it is indeed mighty," said he, gloomily ;
" yea, enough to darken the stone of Caaba, which was
once white as milk, but now, blackened by the sins of
men, is like a piece of charcoal in those walls where
Abraham built it. When a devout Turk, I—via! on—
or a brace of balls will whistle through the head you
may wish should reach Fiumara on your shoulders—
ha, ha!"
To resist was to die ; so, relying on the humanity of the
French officer commanding the outposts, I accompanied
them, in indescribable agony of mind. The fading rays of
the setting sun, as it sank behind the hills, were reddening
the massive towers 'and crenellated battlements, the ter-
raced streets and shining casements of Scylla. It vanished
behind the green ridges ; the standard descended from the
keep, and my heart sank as we neared Fiumara. My
escort kept close by me, with their rifle s loaded. A river,
the name of which I do not remember, winds from these
hills towards Fiumara; and we moved along its northern
bank. Its deep, smooth current lay on the left side of the
BANDIT'S CAVERN.—RECAPTURE AND DELIVERANCE. 473
narrow path, and precipitous rocks, like a wall, rose up on
the right; so that I was without the slightest hope of
effecting an escape. I spoke of the greater reward they
would receive on conducting me to Scylla: hut they
laughed my words to scorn. The Trench out-piquets
were now in sight; and, far down the valle}r, we saw their
chain of advanced sentinels, motionless on their posts,
standing with ordered arms, watching the still current of
the glassy river, as it swept onwards to the sea: its bright
surface reflected the steep rocks, the green woods, and a
ruined bridge, so vividly, that the eye could not distinguish
where land and water met. The last flush of day, as it
died away over the Apennines, cast a yellow blaze on its
windings; which at intervals were dotted by the fitful
watch-fires of the out-lying piquets.
A party of armed men had been seen by Lancelloti pur-
suing the turnings of the path we trod. They came towards
us. Their conical hats and long rifles announced them
Calabrians, and a consultation was held by my capturers
whether to advance or retire, as it was quite impossible
to leave the path on either hand.
"Go to the front, Gaetano, and reconnoitre," said
Lancelloti; " they may be some of the Tree Corps." My
heart leaped at the idea.
" Cospetto! and if they are ?"
"We shoot Mm through the head, plunge into the
river, and swim for it! " said the other ruffian.
"Blockhead!" exclaimed Lancelloti, "they are but
four, and the first lucky fire may make us more than equal.
To you," addressing me with cruel ferocity, " I swear, by
all the devils, you shall be shot the instant we are
attacked—shot, I say, and flung into the river, that no one
else may win those bright Napoleons which I hoped should
clink in my own pouch."
At that moment, Gaetano came running back to say,
that, although armed like the Tree Calabri, with white
cross-belts and heavy muskets, they wore no uniform or
scarlet cockade.
" They must be free cavalieri of our own order, then,"
exclaimed Lancelloti. " Some of Scarolla's band, perhaps."
" They have been plundering of late, as far as Capo
Pillari."
" Torward, then !
474 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Life and liberty were hanging by a hair. My heart
beat tumultuously, and mechanically I moved forward,
cursing the unsoldier-like malice of the French leader, who
had placed me in such a position, by exciting the avarice
of such wretches. After losing sight of the advancing
party for a time, we suddenly met them, front to front, at
an abrupt angle where the road turned round a point of
rock.
" Advance first, Signor Inglese," said Lancelloti, " and,
should you attempt to escape, remember! " and, tapping
the butt of his rifle, he grinned savagely as I stepped for-
ward, expecting every instant to be shot through the head.
My brain was^whirling—I was giddy'with rage and despair.
The path diminished to a narrow shelf of rock, about a
foot broad. On one side, it descended sheer to the dark
waters of the deep and placid river; on the other, frowned
the wall of basalt; and I was compelled to grasp the tufts
of weeds and grass on its surface, as I passed the perilous
turn.
Scarcely had I cleared the angle, when I was confronted
by—whom !—Giacomo, Lucca labbruta, and two other
soldiers of Santugo in disguise. Their shout of joy was
answered by a volley from three rifles behind me; and
the report rang like thunder among the cliffs.
I heard the balls whistle past; a shriek and a plunge
followed, as one of the Free Corps fell, wounded, into the
stream. His comrades rushed on, to avenge him, and I
drew aside behind an angle of the rocks, to avoid the cross
fire of both parties. Enraged to behold the husband of
their famous " Sigriora Capitanessa" in such a plight,
Giacomo and his comrades pressed furiously forward with
fixed bayonets. To this formidable weapon, the foe could
only oppose the clubbed rifle, and a desperate conflict
ensued. But on such ground it could not be of long
duration. Blubber-lipped Lucca shot Lancelloti through
the breast: he rolled down the steep rocks into the
sluggish stream, above which his ferocious face rose once
or twice amid the crimson eddies of his blood, then sank,
to rise no more. Immediately after, his companions were
bayoneted, and flung over the precipice after him.
Full of triumph at his victory and discovery, honest
Giacomo skipped about on the very edge of the cliff,
dancing the tarantella like a madman.
BANDIT'S CAVERN.—RECAPTURE AND DELIVERANCE. 475
" Thrice blessed he our holy lady of Oppido, who led us
this way to-night. 0, happiness! O, joy to the capi-
tanessa!" he exclaimed. " Ah, signor! you know not what
she has endured. The whole garrison has been turned
upside down. The Signora Bianca is distracted; the
visconte, the Conte di Palmi, and Signor Olivero Lascelles
have been incessantly beating the woods in search of you,
so far as they dared venture. And Giacomo—O, tri-
umph!—is the finder ! It is an era in my life. Annina
herself dare not be coy after this! "
Giacomo's Italian enthusiasm displayed itself in a thou-
sand antics ; and it was' not until we saw a party of the
French tirailleurs (whom the firing had alarmed) advancing
up the opposite bank to reconnoitre, that we prepared to
retire. It was now night: favoured by the moon, we
forded the river at a convenient place, and, taking our way
through the woods between Fiumara and Scylla, we eluded
the vigilance of the French piquets. In an hour, I found
myself safe within the walls, gates, and gun-batteries of
my garrison, where my sudden return caused a burst of
universal joy.
Breaking away from Luigi, my brother-officers and
soldiers, who crowded clamorously round me, I hurried
to the apartments of Bianca. All was silent when I en-
tered, and the flickering rays of a night-lamp revealed to
me the confusion my absence had created. Bianca's music,
her guitar, her daily work, the embroidery, her books and
drawings, lay all forgotten, and, huddled in a corner, poor
papagafio croaked desolately in his cage: for he, too, had
been deserted, and his seed-box was empty. A row of
vases, which Bianca used to tend every day, had been for-
gotten, and the flowers had drooped and withered. The
whole sleeping-chamber wore an air of disorder and neglect:
her bed appeared not to have been slept in since I had
left; for my scarlet sashlay on it, just where I had thrown
it the night I left Scylla.
Above all, I was shocked with the appearance of the
poor girl. Beclining on a sofa, she lay sleeping on the
bosom of Annina; who also was buried, in a heavy slum-
ber: both were evidently wearied with watching and
sorrow. Bianca was pale as death. Her beautiful hair
streamed in disorder over her white neck and polished
shoulder; and shining tears were oozing from her long
476 adventubes of an aide-de-camp.
dark lashes. She was weeping in her sleep, and the pallor
of her angelic beauty was rendered yet stronger by com-
parison with the olive brow and rosy cheeks of the waiting-
maid.
I was deeply moved on beholding her thus : but I never
felt so supremely happy as at the moment, when,
gently putting my arm round her, I awoke her to joy, and
dispelled those visions of sorrow which floated through
her dreams.
CHAPTFE LXY.
joys of a militaby honeymoon.
Eably next morning, I was roused by the sharp blast
of a French trumpet stirring all the echoes of Scylla. I
was dressing hastily, when Lascelles, who commanded the
barrier-guard, entered, saying that a flag of truce, and a
trumpet, sent by General Eegnier, required, a conference
with the commandant.
" Curse Eegnier," said I testily, while dragging on my
boots; " I will not hold any communication with him,
after the scandalous manner in which he has treated
me."
" But you may receive the officer, and hear that which
he is ordered to communicate ; at least, answer this letter,
of which he is the bearer."
By the grey twilight of a February morning, I opened
the Frenchman's despatch, and read :—
"Summons
Of unconditional capitulation, and the articles thereof,
agreed to between the commandant of Scylla and Mon-
sieur le General de Division, Eegnier, Grand Officer of the
Legion of Honour, Knight-Commander of the Iron Crown
of Lombardy, Grand Cross of the Lion of Bavaria, Knight
of St. Louis of France, Chef de Bataillon of the Grena-
diers of the Imperial Guard," &c. &c. &c.
" Bah!" cried Oliver, with a laugh, " throw it over the
window."
JOTS OF A MILITARY HONEYMOON. 477
" Give Monsieur le General, Knight of St. Louis, and
all that, my compliments, and say, X will return
these articles with the first cannon-hall fired on his
trenches."
" The enemy are close at hand this morning, and appear
to have made great progress during the night."
" Desire the officer commanding the artillery, to have
all the heavy guns loaded with tincase-shot, in addi-
tion to iron balls ; and to have the primings well looked
to."
" But the Frenchman—he is still waiting at the bar-
riers—shall I show him up ?"
"You may — I have a particular message to his
general."
" He is a punchy, ungentlemanly kind of man, and ap-
pears to keep a sharp eye about him, evidently observing
all our defences."
" Lodge- the trumpeter in the main-guard, and bind up
the eyes of the officer; they served me so once ; I will
meet him in the old hall."
That I might not be deficient in courtesy, I directed
wine, decanters, &c., to be conveyed to the vaulted hall,
where princely banners and Italian trophies had given
place to racks of arms, iron-bound chests, and military
stores. Oliver led in the. officer, with his eyes covered by
a handkerchief, which gave him rather a droll aspect. He
was a short, thick-set man, with wiry, grey moustaches,
and wore the uniform of the ill-fated voltigeurs of the 23rd
regiment.
" Monsieur, you will no doubt pardon this necessary
muffling," said I, advancing ; " but as you wished to see
me—ha!"—at that moment Oliver withdrew the bandage,
when lo ! imagine my astonishment on seeing the features
of General B-egnier ! I knew him in an instant, although,
instead of the blue coat and gold oak-leaves, the stars and
medals of the general of the empire, he wore the plain
light green and silver braid of the 23rd. His wonder was
not less on recognizing.me.
"Ouf! you have outflanked me—quite!" said he, bow-
ing with a ludicrous air of confusion and assurance.
" Shame ! shame, general!" I replied, with an air of
scorn; " who is now the spy, and deserves to be hanged or
shot?"
2 i
478 ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
"Not I," said he, with sangfroid; " I am the bearer of
a flag of truce."
"In your own name? Good!"
"No; in that of Joseph I., king of Naples, and the
marshal prince of Essling."
" A paltry pretence, under which you came hither to
reconnoitre our works, our cannon, and means of resist-
ance. Away, sir! Back to your position, and remember
that one consideration alone prevents me from horse-
whipping you as you deserve, for the manner in which you
treated me at Seminara."
" Horsewhip—mille baionettes J" replied he, with eyes
flashing fire; " I must have reparation for that; mon-
sieur, be so good as to recall those words."
" Sir, remember your threats and the fetters."
" Ouf!" he muttered, shrugging his shoulders. " I am
in the lion's den. You must meet me, monsieur."
"Yes, in the breach — sword in hand — begone,
sir!"
" I go ; but hear me. [Remember the fate of the Italian
commandant of Crotona. I swear, by God and the glory
of France, that, like him, you shall die, and hang from
these ramparts when the place surrenders. Our heavy
gun-batteries will open at noon; you have but two hun-
dred rank and file; for every one of these I can bring
one piece of cannon, and a hundred soldiers — ouf!
we shall eat you up. Before the sun sets to-night,
my triumph shall be complete, and Calabria once more
the emperor's."
And thus we parted, with the bitterest personal animo-
sity. He retired with the bewildered Lascelles, who led
him, blindfold, to the outer barrier, and, with his trum-
peter, there dismissed him.
" By heaven!" he exclaimed, when he hurried back to
me, " what a triumph it would have been to have sent the
old fox over to Messina! Only think of Sherbrooke's
flaming general order and address of thanks on the
occasion. What on earth tempted you to let him go ?"
"Flags of truce must be respected; but I had a hard
struggle between etiquette and inclination. Desire the
gunners of the guard to telegraph to the JElecira and gun-
boats, to keep close in shore, and send my orderly to
the Visconte di Santugo, saying I will visit mm shortly."
JOYS OF A MILITARY HONEYMOON. 479
The continual skirmishing of the peasantry and ban-
ditti with the French, had greatly retarded the operations
of the latter; but on the 10th of February,— the infantry
brigade of Milette's corps having descended from the
Miha heights, and come within range of our cannon,—it
became imperative to order off to Sicily the whole of the
armed paesani who occupied the town of Scylla, as the
bombarding operations of the besieging army would only
subject them to destruction. While our batteries kept in
check the soldiers of Milette, I superintended the em-
barkation of these brave fellows, and the remnant of San-
tugo's Free Corps, who were all received on board the Sici-
lian gun-boats, at the sea staircase. The visconte remained
with me; but his volunteers, who afterwards distinguished
themselves so much in our service, were quartered in
Messina. Poor Giacomo was afterwards slain in the bril-
liant attack made by General Macfarlane, on the coast of
Naples, in the July following. The Cavaliere Paolo, for
his bravery on the same day, at the capture of the Cas-
tello d'lschia, received the thanks of Ferdinand IY. and
Sir J. Stuart, at the head of the army. He was afterwards
created Conte Casteluceio, and shared his coronet with the
fair widow of Castagno. He is now senior commandant
of the Yager guards, in the Neapolitan army.
I transmitted with the gun-boats the whole of the sick
and wounded, and everything of value. I sent away
my groom with my gallant grey, which was indeed far
too good a nag to be captured and ridden by Frenchmen.
It was in vain that I entreated Bianca to go in safety
with the boats, and described to her all the horrors of a
siege; the noise of our guns playing on Milette's ad-
vancing column only confirmed the fond girl's determina-
tion to remain with us; and she seemed happy when the
last gun-boat, laden to the water's edge with her country-
men, moved slowly away from the shore, and the only
chance by which she could leave me was cut off for
ever.
A safe place was fitted up for her by the soldiers in a
bomb-proof chamber, where the thick walls and arches of
solid masonry shut out the storm of war, which was soon to
shake the towers of Scylla to their deepest foundations.
The barriers of palisade were secured, the bridges drawn
up, the standard hoisted, the guns double shotted with
2 i 2
480 adventuees of an aide-de-camp.
balls, canister, and grape, the breastworks and ramparts
lined, the locks and flints examined; and thus we awaited
the enemy on the forenoon of the 10th; the roll of their
brass drums rang among the hills, as the successive
columns descended from the heights of Milia, taking the
most circuitous routes, to avoid the fire of our cannon,
which played upon their line of march at every oppor-
tunity afforded by the inequality of the ground.
CHAPTER LXYI.
the siege of scylla.
My mind was a prey to the utmost anxiety, when I
beheld the overwhelming masses which Regnier was
pouring forward on the last solitary hold of Ferdinand,
cut off by the stormy Strait of Messina from all Sicilian
succour. A strong brigade of cavalry, the 23rd light
infantry, the 1st, 62nd, and 101st regiments of the French
line, together with a powerful battering-train, formed his
force ; but, as each corps consisted of three battalions, he
mustered more than 6,000 foot alone. The "handful"
of the British 62nd, amounting now to only 200 file, were
to encounter them: but proud of my corps, and feeling
all the glorious ardour of my profession glowing within
me—relying on the indomitable English spirit of my
soldiers, and the great natural strength of the position we
occupied—I did not despair of at least protracting a siege,
which, when the great disparity of numbers is remem-
bered, must be deemed as glorious a deed of arms as our
military annals exhibit.
On the morning of the 11th February, five 24-pounders,
five 18-pounders, four mortars, and innumerable field-
pieces, opened a tremendous cannonade on the keep and
upper works of Scylla, to demolish our cover, and bury us
with our guns under the ruins. This battering continued
daily, without a moment's cessation, until the 14th; when,
covered by it, the French sappeurs and artillerists formed
two other breaching batteries, at two hundred yards' dis-
tance from our bastions, notwithstanding the appalling
slaughter made among them by our shells bursting, ana
THE SIEGE OF SCYLLA.
481
grape-sliot and musketry showering around, with deadly
effect. Though the whole of Regnier's infantry remained
under cover during these operations, the execution done
on those who worked at the breaching batteries must have
been fearful—they were so close and so numerous. My
own brave little band was becoming thin from the fire
from the heights—every cannon-shot which struck the
stone walls was rendered, in effect, as dangerous as a
shell, by the heavy splinters it cast on every side, and I
foresaw that the castle of Ruffo—mouldering with the
lapse of years, and shaken by the storms and earthquakes
of centuries, would soon sink before the overwhelming
tempest of -iron balls which Regnier hurled against it
from every point—his gunners stopping only until their
cannon became cool enough to renew the attack. We had
expected great assistance from our flotilla of gun-boats,
which, by keeping close in shore, might have cannonaded
the enemy's position, and shelled their approaches ; but a
storm of wind and rain, which continued without cessation
or lull, from the time the attack began until it was ended,
rendered an approach to Scylla impossible : the sea was
dashing against it in mountains of misty foam, and on
its walls of rock would have cast a line-of-battle ship like
a cork.
The roar of the musketry, and the perpetual booming of
the adverse battery-guns, produced a tremendous effect;
awakening all the echoes of the fathomless caves of
Scylla in the splintered cliffs and Mont Jaci, and, after
being tossed from peak to peak of the Milia Hills, with
ten thousand reverberations, all varying, the reports died
away in the distant sky—only to be succeeded by others.
The dense volumes of smoke that rose from the French
batteries, were forced upwards and downwards by the
stormy wind, and rolled away over land and sea, twisted
into a thousand fantastic shapes, mingling on one side
with the mist of the valleys, on the other, with the foam
of the ocean. The continual rolling of the French brass
drums, the clamour of their artillerymen, and the wild
hallooing of their infantry, added to the roar of the
conflict above and that of the surge below, increased
the effect of a scene which had as many beauties as terrors.
The night of the 14th was unusually dark and stormy,
and on visiting Bianca in her dreary vault (which, by
482 ADVENT17BES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
being below the basement of the keep, was the only safe
place in. the castle), she told me, with a pale cheek and
faltering tongue, that often, of late, she had been disturbed
by sounds rising from the earth below her. I endeavoured
to laugh away her fears ; but, on listening, I heard
distinctly the peculiar noise of hammers and shovels,
which convinced me that the French sappers were atwork
somewhere, and that the hollows of the rock had enabled
them to penetrate far under the foundations of the castle.
On examination, we found that for three nights they had
been lodging a mine, during the noise and gloom of the
storm, and had excavated two chambers: one, under our
principal bastion; the other, under the keep—connecting
them by a saucisson, led through a gallery cut in the solid
rock—the effect of such an explosion would have ended
the siege at once, and blown to atoms the vault appropri-
ated to Bianca and her servant. My mind shrank with
horror from contemplating the frightful death she had so
narrowly escaped. Next night, the train would, un-
doubtedly, have been fired; and the inner chamber was
pierced within three feet of her bed ! # * *
Desiring Lascelles to prepare a counter-mine, in ease of
our failure, I slipped out by the barriers, accompanied by
Santugo and twelve volunteers. Favoured by the darkness
of the night, the howling of the stormy wind, and dashing
of the "angry surge,5' we stole safely to the scene of
operations, and with charged bayonets fell upon a brigade
of sappeurs—as the French style a party of eight private
artificers, under the command of a non-commissioned
officer. They were all as merry as crickets, talking and
laughing whilst working in their shirt sleeves.
They defended themselves bravely with their swords ;
but, as we possessed the mouth of the excavation, all
retreat was cut off. The corporal, a strong athletic fellow,
beat down Santiago's guard with a shovel, and striking
him to the earth with the same homely weapon, broke
through us, plunged down the rocks, and escaped; but
the whole of his party were bayoneted, and, after utterly
ruining and destroying the mine, we retreated within our
gates, without losing a man, or firing a shot. The exas-
peration of the proud Santugo at the rough knock-down
he received from the corporal is quite indescribable.
Next day the enemy pushed forward still closer to the
THE SIEGE OE SCYLLA.
483
walls; led by my old acquaintance, De Bourmont, tlie
101st regiment had the temerity to advance round an
angle of the rocks to the water's edge, for the purpose of
destroying the sea staircase—our last, our only means of
retreat. A cry hurst from my soldiers ; we brought every
musket to bear upon that point, and depressed our cannon
by wedges and handspikes; section after section of the
enemy were swept into the sea, and they were therefore
compelled to abandon the attempt, leaving half their num-
ber piled up on the rocky shore, killed or wounded, or
drowned by falling from the narrow path, where many of
the dead and dying were drenched, and swept away every
instant by the sea.
As the mist rolled up from the mountains, we saw the
shattered remains of the regiment—a dark mass, in grey
great-coats, with the tops of their glazed caps and bayonet-
blades glancing in the sun—retiring, double quick, beyond
the eminence, which, to a certain extent, sheltered Eeg-
nier's infantry from our missiles; but their retreat was
galled by them, and a line of prostrate bodies marked
their route.
" Dundas, you shall see how I will unhorse that fellow,"
said the officer commanding our artillery, as he coolly ad-
justed the quoin under the breach of a long nine. He
meant old Bourmont, who, like a brave fellow as he was,
retreated in rear of his column, and was jogging along on
his charger, whose drooping head, mulish ears, curved
face, and shambling action, showed the thorough French
horse. Before I could speak, the match fell on the
vent, the gun was fired, and the aim was true—fatally
so.
" A splendid shot, and a jewel of a gun," exclaimed my
friend, exulting in his gunnery, as both horse and rider
tumbled prone to the earth. "Will you try a shot,
Dundas?"
" Thank you, no ; you have killed the only man, amid
all those ranks, I would have spared."
" By Jove ! he is not settled yet," said Lascelles, with an
air of disappointment, as the colonel disengaged himself
from his fallen horse, and, heavily encumbered by his
jack-boots, scrambled over the hill with as much expedi-
tion as his short legs and rotund form would permit. Both
Oliver and the artillerist were chagrined at his escape;
484 adventuees of an aide-de-camp.
and yet, in their quiet moods, both were men who would
not have killed a fly.
At that moment, so critical to Bourmont, I heard a
splitting roar—the rock shook beneath us, and we knew
not which way to look. Shaken and rent by the salvos of
heavy shot, which, for four successive days, had showered
from the French batteries, an immense mass of wall, the
curtain of our strongest bastion, rolled thundering to the
earth, burying the poor artillery officer, Gascoigne, Ser-
jeant Gask, a number of soldiers, and all our best cannon,
under a mighty mountain of crumbled masonry. I was
dismayed and grieved by this terrible catastrophe, which
the French hailed with shouts of rapture and triumph;
they redoubled their battering, with such effect on the
shattered walls, that every time a ball struck, other masses
gave way, burying soldiers and cannon beneath them. By
sunset, every gun was entombed under the prostrate walls,
and we had only musketry to trust to, in case of an
assault, which I had no doubt would be attempted that
very night, as the breach was quite practicable, and the
continual cannonade prevented us from repairing it by
fascines, or any other contrivance.
Some were now despairing, and all more or less dis-
pirited; many an anxious glance was cast to Sicily, and
to the sea which raged between us, as the lowering yellow
sun sank behind the Neptunian hills, and the waves grew
black and frothy.
CHAPTER LXVII.
the fall of sctlla.—conclusion.
Night descended upon Scylla, upon the dark Apen-
nines and the tempestuous sea, and my mind became filled
with anxiety; our means of defence were greatly dimi-
nished, our shelter ruined. The stormy state of the
weather cut off, equally, all hope of succour or escape, and
I anticipated with dread a surrender to General Regnier,
my personal enemy; by his orders, Santugo had little
mercy to expect from Napoleon ; and I knew not to what
THE FALL OF SCYLLA.—CONCLUSION. 485
indignities Bianca, as an Italian lady, miglit be subjected,
if taken prisoner. Though crippled in means of resistance,
and reduced in number, my few brave fellows would have
defended the ruined breach till the last of them perished,
but I saw that, ultimately, Scylla must become the prize
of the enemy, and only trusted that, during a lull of the
storm, we might effect a retreat to Messina by the flotilla
of Sicilian gun-boats.
How changed now was the aspect of the venerable
Scylla, since that morning when the French batteries first
opened on it! The massive Norman battlements and its
beautiful hall had crumbled into rubbish, or sunk in pon-
derous masses beneath the heavy salvos; every window
and loophole was beaten into hideous gaps, and yawning
rents split the strong towers from rampart to foundation.
The well was choked up by the falling stones, and want of
water increased the miseries of sixty wounded men, whom,
ultimately, we had to abandon to the care of the enemy.
Every cannon was buried, under the mighty piles of ruin,
beyond recovery—all, save one thirteen-inch mortar,
which I ordered to be dragged to the summit of the
breach, where it afterwards did good service.
Many of the miserable wounded were destroyed under
the falling walls, or buried, more or less, at a time when
we could not spare a hand to extricate them ; their cries
were piteous, and their agonies frightful. The dead lay
heaped up behind breastwork and banquette, and from the
castle gutters the red blood was dropping on the sea-beaten
rocks below, where the sea-mews and cormorants flapped
their wings, and screamed over the sweltering corpses of
the 101st. The artillerymen were almost annihilated, and
their platforms were drenched in gore.
Though exhausted by the toil they had endured, the
brave little band of survivors manned the breach, and re-
mained under arms during the whole of a most tempestuous
night, with that quiet cheerfulness, mingled with stern
determination, which are the principal characteristics of
our unmatched soldiery in times of peril. Towards mid-
night, Santugo (whom, with Lascelles, I had left in charge
of the breach) aroused me from a nap I was snatching,
rolled up in my cloak and ensconced under the lee side of
a parapet.
" Signer, we have had an alert," said he, " a movement
486 AD VENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
is taking place amongst the enemy. They will be in the
breach in five minutes."
I hurried to the mighty rent in our fortifications, and
saw the long and perilous route which an escalade had to
ascend—a steep and uncertain pathway, jagged with rocks,
and covered with a thousand cart-loads of loose stones,
mortar, and rubbish. It looked like a waterfall, as it
vanished down the rocks into the gloom and obscurity
below. The sky was intensely dark, and, though the wind
howled, and the sea hissed and roared on the bluff head-
lands, the night seemed calm and still, after the battle-din
of the past day.
A white mass, like a rolling cloud, was moving softly
towards the breach, and Santugo was puzzled to account
for the strange uniform; but I knew in a moment that it
was an attack en chemise, and that the stormers were clad
each in a white shirt, a garb sometimes adopted by the
French when engaged in a night assault. Here our vigi-
lance got the better of them.
The chemise is a short shirt, either with or without
sleeves, worn over the accoutrements, reaching only to the
flap of the cartridge-box, and is a very useful and necessary
precaution, to prevent the stormers from mistaking each
other in the darkness, horror, and confusion of a night
assault.
Our drum (we had only one now) beat, and a volley of
musketry was poured upon the breach from every point
that commanded it. The flashes glared forth over the
ruined parapets above and the loopholes of the casemates
below, while our artillerymen, now that they had no longer
cannon to work, stood by the howitzer, to sweep the breach,
and showered rockets, hand-grenades, and red and blue
lights on the advancing column. The bursting of the for-
mer retarded and confused them, while the lurid or ghastly
glare of the latter showed us how to direct our fire. Many
fire-balls alighted on the rocks, and blazed furiously, shea-
ding over everything floods of alternate crimson and blue
light, which had a magnificent yet horrible effect.
" Vive la gloire! Avancez! avancez, mes enfants !"
cried the officer who led a wing of the French 62nd, and a
wild cheer burst from his soldiers. It was the brave young
Vicomte de Chataillion who headed " the Lost Children,"
and I saw with regret that he must fall.
THE FALL OF SCVLLA.—CONCLUSION. 487
"Forward tlie howitzer, to sweep the breach! " cried I
to the artillerymen,' who were every second falling down,
killed or wounded, into the gap, before the fire of the
French. " Forward—depress the muzzle, and stand clear
of the recoil! "
Loaded with a bag containing a thousand musket-balls,
the howitzer was run forward to the breach, over which
its yawning muzzle was depressed and pointed.
" Fire ! " cried the corporal. A little flame shot upward
from the vent, a broad and vivid blaze flashed from the
muzzle, and the report shook the ground beneath our feet.
The effect of such an unusual and concentrated discharge
of musket-shot on the advancing mass was awful and tre-
mendous. By the light of the blazing fire-balls, we saw
the sudden carnage in all its sanguinary horror. The
dashing Chataillion, and more than two hundred rank and
file, were swept away—literally blown to pieces—by the
storm of leaden balls ; and the remainder of his party re-
tired on the main body in undisguised confusion and
dismay.
" "Well done, soldiers !" I exclaimed, with stern triumph,
and feeling a wild glow of excitement, only to be felt in
such a place and at such a time. " Beady the handspikes—
back with the mortar—load again, and qram her to the
muzzle with grape and tin-case shot, to sweep their column
again!"
Again the brave French came headlong on, led now by
jovial old De Bourmont; who, with the tricolour in one
hand and his cocked hat in the other, scrambled up the
loose stony breach in his clumsy jack-boots, with an
agility astonishing in one of his years and size. The gold
cross of the Legion, the silver badges of Lodi, Areola, of
Marengo, and other scenes of honourable service—his bald
head and silver hair—shone amid the glaring fireballs and
flashing musketry, as the desperate stormers swept on.
" Vive l'empereur! Avancez ! Avancez ! " cried he.
" Tue tue !" yelled the forlorn band; and the whole of
Begnier's division sent up the cri des armes from the
hills to heaven. On came the infuriated assailants—
on—on—rushing up the frightful path; but the deadly
fire we rained upon them, and the fast falling corpses (every
bullet killing double) soon kept them thoroughly in check.
Begardless of danger, I stood on the summit of the
488
ADVENTURES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
"breach, that my soldiers might not want example. I felt
the wind of the flying balls as they whistled past me ; one
carried away my right epaulette, a second broke the hilt
of my sabre, and I lost a spur by a third.
" Soldiers, courage !" cried Santugo, who kept close by
my side, and brandished his sabre with hot impatience ;
" courage, and they must againfly before you! Viva Ferdi—
O, Madonna mia! " he suddenly ejaculated, in a gasping
voice, as a ball struck him, and he sank at my feet. The
soldiers at the howitzer dragged him back from the
enemy's fire; and, as they did so, a musket bullet dropped
from his left shoulder : he caught it, all dripping as it was
with his blood, and, giving it to the corporal, exclaimed,
like the soldier of Julian Estrado—"With this will I
avenge myself! Signor Bombardiere, be so good as to load
me a musket, and ram this bullet well home."
It was done in a twinkling ; and, while from sheer agony
his frame quivered and his teeth were clenched like a vice,
he levelled the piece over the wheel of the howitzer, and
shot poor De Bourmont, who fell dead, and rolled to the
bottom of the rocks. The concussion threw Santugo
backwards. But he was again dragged out of the press
by the gunners, and taken to a sheltered place, where
Macnesia attended to his wound.
The instant Colonel Bourmont fell, another officer
snatched the tricolour from the hand of the corpse as it
rolled past, and supplied his place; and once more the
storming party rushed up the steep ascent, regardless as
before of falling men and rolling stones, of the shot
showered on them from every point, and the hedge of
keen bayonets bristling at the summit of the breach above
them.
" Long live Joseph, king of Naples ! Tne ! Tue !
Vive la France! " They were again within a few yards
of us, when the stern order, " Forward with the howitzer!"
rang above the din. The artillery put their hands and
shoulders to the wheels, and urged it to the breach;
which was again swept by an irresistible storm of bullets.
Once more the carnage was beyond conception horrible;
and with a yell of rage and dismay, the stormers retreated
precipitately beyond the eminence which sheltered their
infantry.
On their flying, the incessant discharge of fire-arms,
THE FALL OF SCYLLA.—CONCLUSION.
489
which had rung for so many hours, died away for a time ;
and the rising sun revealed to us the carnage of the last
night's conflict. The breach, the rocks, and approaches
without the court, parapets and defences within, were
covered with blood, and strewed with mangled bodies ;
but the ascent of the forlorn hope was terrible—no pencil
could depict—no pen can describe it! The Frenchmen
lay in piles of twenty and thirty ; while scattered in every
direction were seen the fragments of those who had
perished by the discharges of the howitzer.
Taking advantage of the temporary cessation of hos-
filities, I ordered the breach to be repaired by piles of
stones and rubbish, to form a breastwork; while another
fatigue-party cleared away some of the ruins which buried
our cannon and platforms. The soldiers raised a faint
cheer—one gun was extricated. Alas! a trunnion was
knocked off by the falling stones, and our labour had been
in vain—it was useless. On seeing how we were em-
ployed, the French drums once more beat the pas de
charge, and the attack was renewed with greater fury, and
on two distant points at once. The 1st, 62nd, and 101st,
again advanced to the breach, while a brigade of their
second battalions, under General Milette, with ten or
twelve field-pieces, assailed us on a point almost opposite;
and the breaching battery, the field-brigade and mortars
on the height, poured shot and shell upon us with re-
morseless determination. During the whole night and
. morning, the elemental war had continued with such un-
abated fury, that our gun-boats had been unable to leave
the Sicilian coast; and I became convinced—but with
sorrow and chagrin—that a capitulation was inevitable. I
. was about to order the gallant union to be hauled down,
and the white flag of mercy hoisted; but before doing so,
I conveyed a notice by telegraph to General Sherbrooke,
in Sicily, acquainting him with my situation and in-
tention.
" Fight on—you will be rescued!" was the answer we
received. Almost immediately, after the storm lulled a
little, and we saw the stately Electra standing, [with her
sails crowded, towards Scylla; while the flotilla, from the
Faro, spread their broad latteens to the stormy wind.
Animated by the prospect, and filled with desperate
courage, once more we manned the deadly breach. Before,
490 ADVENTTJEES OF AN AIDE-DE-CAMP.
we fought for honour and in the fulfilment of our duty;
now, jit was for life and liberty: and most effectually we
kept the foe in check, until the gun-boats reached the sea-
staircase; where Captain Trollope, of the Electra, with
the men-of-war launches, arrived, to superintend the em-
barkation.
Aware of our intended escape, the enraged enemy did
all in their power to frustrate it; the batteries, the brigades
of field-pieces, and the battalions of infantry, poured their
utmost fire upon the steep and narrow staircase (which
was hewn out of the solid rock), on the ruined breach, the
blood-stained ramparts, the corpse-heaped ditches, and the
heaving boats: their drums rolled, and their shouts rent
the air, while their frantic gunners worked their cannon
like madmen.
Now, indeed, came the moment of my greatest dread
and anxiety; to which all the rest had been child's play.
Bianca—the poor drooping girl, now half dead with terror
and exhaustion—had to be brought forth, with her at-
tendant, and conveyed to the boats: to the boats, good
God! And at that terrible time, when the concentrated
fire of such a number of cannon, mortars, and musketry
was poured upon Scylla; and especially on that steep and
slippery stair which she had to descend. The 1st Legere,
nearly a thousand strong, swept it with their fire. My
heart became quite unmanned—I trembled; but it was for
her alone.
" OliverI cried to Lascelles ; " see Bianca—see Mrs.
Dundas to the boats; it is a duty with which I can hardly
trust myself—I have the breach to defend. Look sharp,
man! yet in God's name, I implore you to be wary!"
He wrung my hand, sheathed his sword, and withdrew.
• A minute afterwards, he emerged from the ruined bomb-
proof arch; Bianca leaned on his arm, and a party of
soldiers threw themselves in a dense circle around her for
her protection.
"Claude, Claude!" she cried, in a despairing voice j
but the faithful band hurried her down to the boats.
" Sound—close to the centre!" cried I to the bugle-
boy: " call off the men from every point!"
As he obeyed me, tears fell fast from his eyes: his
father, a soldier, lay dead in the breach close by. The
bugle-blast was caught, in various cadence, by the wind,
THE FALL OF SCYLLA.—CONCLUSION. 491
and could be barely beard above tbe noise of the conflict;
tbe assembly, and tbe retreat, poured in rapid succession
on tbe ear, and tbe last sbrill note of tbe warning to retire
double-quick bad scarcely been given, ere tbe bugle flew
from bis grasp, and, struck by a sbot, tbe poor boy rolled
at my feet, bleeding, and beating tbe earth. Sixty men,
tbe last remnant of my comrades, assembled from every
point. Lloyd spiked tbe mortar, and tbe whole rushed,
helter-skelter, down tbe steep staircase, and sprang into
tbe boats, which were pushed off as soon as they were
filled.
I was tbe last to leave tbe fort, and, as I turned to go,
" O, Captain Lundas, don't leave me, sir!" cried an im-
ploring voice: it was tbe httle bugler of tbe 62nd. A
score of wounded men were crying the same thing: it was
impossible to attend to them all, but, snatching up tbe
boy, I bore him off, and leaped into tbe launch of tbe
JElectra, in tbe stern-sheets of which sat Bianca, rolled up
in my regimental cloak, to protect her from tbe chill
morning air and damp sea atmosphere. She sobbed con-
vulsively, with terror and joy. Santugo was in one of tbe
gun-boats—Macnesia sat beside him ; Lloyd, Lascelles,
and tbe soldiers, were crowded into other craft, and tbe
whole gave a reckless cheer of defiance.
" Shove off!" cried tbe captain of tbe JElectra, through
his speaking-trumpet; "give way, lads—cheerily now!"
and tbe oars dipped in tbe water as tbe sails were trimmed,
and tbe sterns were turned to Scylla.
Tbe whole embarkation bad been effected with match-
less rapidity and order, notwithstanding that tbe cannon-
sbot, tbe bursting shells, tbe grenades, and musketry,
lashed and tore tbe water into foam around us—tbe sea,
all tbe while, roaring and rolling in mighty mountains of
froth against tbe cliffs, where it boiled, as if in impotent
wrath, recoiling from tbe shppery and frowning bluff, to
run its waves in quick succession into tbe vast and gloomy
Dragara, which has often been compared to tbe mouth of
some wondrous monster essaying to engulf all ocean.
One seaman was killed, and ten dangerously wounded;
but these casualties were deemed trifling, under so heavy
a fire, and when tbe sea was heaving and breaking be-
neatb us, threatening every instant to swamp tbe boats,
to dash them against each other, or on these inhospitable
492 adventures of an aide-de-camp.
roots, which nearly proved so fatalto the " sacred Argo "
of old.
With three hearty cheers, we moved off. Scarcely had
we done so, when the tricolour waved over Seylla, and
the tall red plumes and glancing bayonets of the 101st
appeared among the ruined walls, while a party of the
23rd rushed, shouting, down the staircase, with such
impetuosity that many fell headlong into the seething
sea.
We had done our duty. Though, by force of numbers,
they had beaten us out of the last stronghold of Ferdi-
nand IY. and the British in Calabria, they had gained
only a pile of shapeless ruin, and at the dear price of
many a gallant fellow. We were now on the open ocean
—three minutes before, we were manning the frightful
breach!
The storm died away, and the bright Ausonian sun
arose in his glory: the shores of Sicily, studded with
towns and castles, the green woods, the sparkling sandy
beach, the bright Neptunian hills, and the red tower of
the Lantern, were all radiant with light. The shore we
had left, and the blood-stained Seylla, diminished in the
distance, as our sailors bent to their flashing oars, and the
bellying canvas swelled on the morning wind, which blew
from the pine-clad Apennines.
" Courage, Bianca!" I exclaimed, and threw my arm
around her; "we are beyond range, even of cannon,
now."
" Anima mia," she whispered, as she laid her head on
my shoulder, " you are safe, and I am happy !"
And thus ended hy campaign in the Calabrias.
the end.
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