"He saw with his own eyes the moon was round,
Was also certain that the earth was square,
Because he'd journeyed fifty miles, and found
No sign that it was circular anywhere."
_Don Juan_.
Raoul Yvard was indebted to a piece of forethought in Clinch for his
life. But for the three guns fired so opportunely from the Foudroyant,
the execution could not have been stayed; and but for a prudent care on
the part of the master's-mate, the guns would never have been fired. The
explanation is this: when Cuffe was giving his subordinate instructions
how to proceed, the possibility of detention struck the latter, and he
bethought him of some expedient by which such an evil might be remedied.
At his suggestion then, the signal of the guns was mentioned by the
captain, in his letter to the commander-in-chief, and its importance
pointed out. When Clinch reached the fleet, Nelson was at Castel à Mare,
and it became necessary to follow him to that place by land. Here Clinch
found him in the palace of Qui-Si-Sane, in attendance on the court, and
delivered his despatches. Nothing gave the British admiral greater
pleasure than to be able to show mercy, the instance to the contrary
already introduced existing as an exception in his private character and
his public career; and it is possible that an occurrence so recent, and
so opposed to his habits, may have induced him the more willingly now to
submit to his ordinary impulses, and to grant the respite asked with the
greater promptitude.
"Your captain tells me here, sir," observed Nelson, after he had read
Cuffe's letter a second time, "little doubt exists that Yvard was in the
Bay on a love affair, and that his purposes were not those of a spy,
after all?"
"Such is the, opinion aboard us, my lord," answered the master's-mate.
"There are an old man and a very charming young woman in his company,
who Captain Cuffe says were in the cabin of this ship, on a visit to
your lordship, only a few days since."
Nelson started, and his face flushed. Then he seized a pen, and, with
the only hand he had, scratched a letter, directing a reprieve until
further orders. This he signed and handed to Clinch, saying, as he
did so:
"Get into your boat, sir, and pull back to the frigate as fast as
possible; God forbid that any man suffer wrongfully!"
"I beg your pardon, my lord--but there is not time, now, for me to reach
the ship before the sun set. I have a signal prepared in the boat, it is
true; but the frigate may not come round Campanella before the last
moment, and then all these pains will be lost. Does not Captain Cuffe
speak of some guns to be fired from the flag-ship, my lord?"
"He does, sir; and this may be the safest mode of communicating, after
all. With this light westerly air, a gun will be heard a long distance
at sea. Take the pen, and write as I dictate, sir."
Clinch seized the pen, which the admiral, who had lost his right arm
only a few years before, really felt unable to use, and wrote
as follows:
"Sir--Immediately on the receipt of this, you will fire three heavy
guns, at intervals of half a minute, as a signal to the Proserpine to
suspend an execution.
"To the Commanding Officer of His Majesty's Ship Foudroyant."
As soon as the magical words of "Nelson and Bronté" were affixed to
this order, with a date, Clinch rose to depart. After he had made his
bows, he stood with his hand on the lock of the door, as if uncertain
whether to prefer a request or not.
"This is a matter of moment, sir, and no time is to be lost," added
Nelson. "I feel great anxiety about it, and wish you to desire Captain
Cuffe to send you back with a report of all that has passed, as soon as
convenient."
"I will report your wishes, my lord," answered Clinch, brightening up;
for he only wanted an opportunity to speak of his own promotion, and
this was now offered in perspective. "May I tell the commanding officer
of the flag-ship to use the lower-deck guns, my lord?"
"He will do that of his own accord, after reading those orders; heavy
guns mean the heaviest. Good afternoon, sir; for God's sake, lose
no time."
Clinch obeyed this injunction to the letter. He reached the Foudroyant
some time before sunset, and immediately placed the order in her
captain's hands. A few words of explanation set everything in motion,
and the three guns were fired on the side of the ship toward Capri, most
opportunely for our hero.
The half hour that succeeded, on board the Proserpine, was one of gayety
and merriment. Every person was glad that the ship had escaped an
execution; and then it was the hour for piping down the hammocks, and
for shifting the dogwatches. Cuffe recovered all his animation, and
conversed cheerfully, having Griffin for an interpreter, with his two
Italian guests. These last had been prevented from paying their visit to
the prisoner, on account of the latter's wish to be alone; but the
intention was now renewed; and sending below, to ascertain if it would
be agreeable, they proceeded together on their friendly mission. As the
two worthies, who had not altogether got their sea-legs, slowly
descended the ladder, and threaded their way among the throng of a ship,
the discourse did not flag between them.
"Cospetto!" exclaimed the podestà; "Signor Andrea, we live in a world
of wonders! A man can hardly say whether he is actually alive or not. To
think how near this false Sir Smees was to death, half an hour since;
and now, doubtless, he is as much alive, and as merry as any of us."
"It would be more useful, friend Vito Viti," answered the philosophical
vice-governatore, "to remember how near those who live are always to
death, who has only to open his gates to cause the strongest and fairest
to pass at once into the tomb."
"By San Stefano, but you have a way with you, vice-governatore, that
would become a cardinal! It's a thousand pities the church was robbed of
such a support; though I do think, Signor Andrea, if your mind would
dwell less on another state of being, it would be more cheerful; and I
may say, more cheering to those with whom you discourse. There are evils
enough in this life, without thinking so much of death."
"There are philosophers who pretend, good Vito, that nothing that we see
around us actually has an existence: that we _fancy_ everything; fancy
that this is a sea, called the Mediterranean; fancy this is a
ship--yonder is the land; fancy that we live; and even fancy death."
"Corpo di Bacco! Signor Andrea," exclaimed the other, stopping short at
the foot of the ladder, and seizing his companion by a button, afraid he
would desert him in the midst of a strange delusion, "you would not
trifle in such a matter with an old friend; one who has known you from
childhood? _Fancy_ that I am alive!"
"_Si_--I have told you only the truth. The imagination is very strong,
and may easily give the semblance of reality to unreal things."
"And that I am not a podestà, in fact, but one only in fancy!"
"Just so, friend Vito; and that I am only a vice-governatore, too, in
the imagination."
"And that Elba is not a real island, or Porto Ferrajo a real town; and
that even all our iron, of which we _seem_ to send so much about the
world, in good, wholesome ships, is only a sort of ghost of solid,
substantial metal!"
"_St, si_--that everything which appears to be material is, in fact,
imaginary; iron, gold, or flesh."
"And then I am not Vito Viti, but an impostor? What a rascally
philosophy is this! Why, both of us are as bad as this Sir Smees, if
what you say be true, vice-governatore--or make-believe
vice-governatore."
"Not an impostor, friend Vito; for there is no real being of thy name,
if thou art not he."
"Diavolo! A pretty theory this, which would teach the young people of
Elba that there is no actual podestà in the island, but only a poor,
miserable, sham one; no Vito Viti on earth. If they get to think this,
God help the place, as to order and sobriety."
"I do not think, neighbor, that you fully understand the matter, which
may be owing to a want of clearness on my part; but, as we are now on
our way to visit an unfortunate prisoner, we may as well postpone the
discussion to another time. There are many leisure moments on board a
ship, to the language of which one is a stranger, that might be usefully
and agreeably relieved by going into the subject more at large."
"Your pardon, Signor Andrea; but there is no time like the present.
Then, if the theory be true, there is no prisoner at all--or, at the
most, an imaginary one--and it can do Sir Smees no harm to wait; while,
on the other hand, I shall not have a moment's peace until I learn
whether there is such a man as Vito Viti or not, and whether I am he."
"Brother Vito, thou art impatient; these things are not learned in a
moment; moreover, every system has a beginning and an end, like a book;
and who would ever become learned, that should attempt to read a
treatise backward?"
"I know what is due to you, Signor Andrea, both on ac count of your
higher rank, and on account of your greater wisdom, and will say no more
at present; though to keep from _thinking_ on a philosophy that teaches
I am not a podestà, or you a vice-governatore, is more than flesh and
blood can bear."
Andrea Barrofaldi, glad that his companion was momentarily appeased, now
proceeded toward Raoul's little prison, and was immediately admitted by
the sentry, who had his orders to that effect. The prisoner received his
guests courteously and cheerfully; for we are far from wishing to
represent him as so heroic as not to rejoice exceedingly at having
escaped death by hanging, even though it might prove to be a respite,
rather than a pardon. At such a moment, the young man could have excused
a much more offensive intrusion, and the sudden change in his prospects
disposed him a little to be jocular; for truth compels us to add that
gratitude to God entered but little into his emotions. The escape from
death, like his capture, and the other incidents of his cruise, was
viewed simply as the result of the fortune of war.
Winchester had directed that Raoul's state-room should be supplied with
every little convenience that his situation required, and, among other
things, it had two common ship's stools. One of these was given to each
of the Italians, while the prisoner took a seat on the gun-tackle of one
of the two guns that formed the sides of his apartment. It was now
night, and a mist had gathered over the arch above, winch hid the stars,
and rendered it quite dark. Still, Raoul had neither lamp nor candles;
and, though they had been offered him, he declined their use, as he had
found stranger eyes occasionally peeping through the openings in the
canvas, with the idle curiosity of the vulgar, to ascertain the
appearance and employments of one condemned to die. He had experienced a
good deal of annoyance from this feeling the previous night; and the
same desire existing to see how a criminal could bear a respite, he
determined to pass his evening in obscurity. There was a lantern or
two, however, on the gun-deck, which threw a dim light even beyond the
limits of the canvas bulkheads. As has been said already, these
bulkheads extended from gun to gun, so as to admit light and air from
the ports. This brought the tackles on one side into the room; and on
one of these Raoul now took his seat.
Andrea Barrofaldi, from his superior condition in life, as well as from
his better education and nicer natural tact, far surpassed his companion
in courtesy of demeanor. The latter would have plunged _in medias res_
at once, but the vice-governatore commenced a conversation on general
matters, intending to offer his congratulations for the recent respite
when he conceived that a suitable occasion should arise. This was an
unfortunate delay in one respect; for Vito Viti no sooner found that the
main object of the visit was to be postponed, than he turned with
eagerness to the subject in discussion, which had been interrupted in
order to enter the state-room.
"Here has the vice-governatore come forward with a theory, Sir Smees,"
he commenced, the moment a pause in the discourse left him an
opening--"here has the vice-governatore come forward with a theory that
I insist the church would call damnable, and at which human nature
revolts----"
"Nay, good Vito, thou dost not state the case fairly," interrupted
Andrea, whose spirit was a little aroused at so abrupt an assault. "The
theory is not mine; it is that of a certain English philosopher, in
particular, who, let it be said, too, was a bishop."
"A Lutheran!--was it not so, honorable Signor Andrea?--a bishop so
called?"
"Why, to confess the truth, he _was_ a heretic, and not to be considered
as an apostle of the true church."
"Aye--I would have sworn to that. No true son of the church would ever
broach such a doctrine. Only fancy, signori, the number of imaginary
fires, tongues, and other instruments of torture that would become
necessary to carry on punishment under such a system! To be consistent,
even the devils ought to be imaginary."
"_Comment, signori!"_ exclaimed Raoul, smiling, and arousing to a sudden
interest in the discourse; "did any English bishop ever broach such a
doctrine? Imaginary devils, and imaginary places of punishment, are
coming near to our revolutionary France! After this, I hope our
much-abused philosophy will meet with more respect."
"My neighbor has not understood the theory of which he speaks," answered
Andrea, too good, a churchman not to feel uneasiness at the direction
things were taking: "and so, worthy Vito Viti, I feel the necessity of
explaining the whole matter at some length. Sir Smees," so the Italians
called Raoul, out of courtesy still, it being awkward for them, after
all that had passed, to address him by his real name--"Sir Smees will
excuse us for a few minutes; perhaps it may serve to amuse him to hear
to what a flight the imagination of a subtle-minded man can soar."
Raoul civilly expressed the satisfaction it would give him to listen,
and stretching himself on the gun-tackle, in order to be more at ease,
he leaned back with his head fairly within the port, while his feet were
braced against the inner truck of the gun-carriage. This threw him into
a somewhat recumbent attitude, but it being understood as intended to
render what was but an inconvenient seat at the best tolerably
comfortable, no one thought it improper.
It is unnecessary for us to repeat here all that Andrea Barrofaldi
thought proper to say in his own justification, and in explanation of
the celebrated theory of Bishop Berkeley. Such a task was not performed
in a minute; and, in truth, prolixity, whenever he got upon a favorite
theme, was apt to be one of the vice-governatore's weaknesses. He was
far from acquiescing in the doctrine, though he annoyed his old neighbor
exceedingly, by presenting the subject in such a way as to render it
respectable in appearance, if not conclusive in argument. To the latter
it was peculiarly unpleasant to imagine, even for the sake of argument,
that there was no such island as Elba, and that he was not its podestà;
and all his personal and egotistical propensities came in aid of his
official reluctance, to disgust him thoroughly with a theory that he did
not hesitate to say "was an outrage on every honest man's nature."
"There are fellows in the world, Signor Andrea," the straightforward
podestà urged, in continuation of his objections, "who might be glad
enough to find everything imaginary, as you say--chaps that cannot sleep
of nights, for bad consciences, and to whom it would be a great blessing
if the earth would throw them overboard, as they say in this ship, and
let them fall into the great ocean of oblivion. But they are baroni in
grain, and ought not to pass for anything material, among honest people.
I've known several of those rogues at Livorno, and I dare say Napoli is
not altogether without them; but that is a very different matter from
telling a handsome and virtuous young maiden that her beauty and modesty
are both seeming; and respectable magistrates that they are as great
impostors as the very rogues they send to the prisons; or, perhaps, to
the galleys."
To speeches like these, Andrea opposed his explanations and his
philosophy, until the discussion became animated, and the dialogue loud.
It is rather a peculiarity of Italy, that one of the softest languages
of Christendom is frequently rendered harsh and unpleasant by the mode
of using it. On this occasion, certainly, the animation of the
disputants did not mitigate the evil. Griffin happened to pass the spot,
on the outside of the canvas, just at this moment, and, catching some of
the words, he stopped to listen. His smiles and translations soon
collected a group of officers, and the sentry respectfully dropping a
little on one side, the deck around the state-room of the prisoner
became a sort of parquet to a very amusing representation. Several of
the young gentlemen understood a little Italian, and Griffin
translating rapidly, though in an undertone, the whole affair was deemed
to be particularly diverting.
"This is a rum way of consoling a man who is condemned to die," muttered
the master; "I wonder the Frenchman stands all their nonsense."
"Oh!" rejoined the marine officer, "drill will do anything. These
Revolutionists are so drilled into hypocrisy, that I dare say the fellow
is grinning the whole time, as if perfectly delighted."
Raoul, in fact, listened with no little amusement. At first, his voice
was occasionally heard in the discussion, evidently aiming at exciting
the disputants; but the warmth of the latter soon silenced him, and he
was fain to do nothing but listen. Shortly after the discussion got to
be warm, and just as Griffin was collecting his group, the prisoner
stretched himself still further into the port, to enjoy the coolness of
the evening breeze, when, to his surprise, a hand was laid gently on
his forehead.
"Hush!" whispered a voice close to his ear, "it is the
American--Ithuel--be cool;--now is the moment to pull for life."
Raoul had too much self-command to betray his astonishment, but in an
instant every faculty he possessed was on the alert. Ithuel, he knew,
was a man for exigencies. Experience had taught him a profound respect
for his enterprise and daring, when it became necessary to act.
Something must certainly be in the wind, worthy of his attention, or
this cautious person would not have exposed himself in a situation which
would be sure to lead to punishment, if detected. Ithuel was seated
astride of one of the chains, beneath the main-channel of the ship, a
position which might be maintained without detection, possibly, so long
as it continued dark; but which in itself, if seen, would have been
taken as a proof of an evil intention.
"What would you have, Etooelle?" whispered Raoul, who perceived that
his companions were too much occupied to observe his movements, or to
hear his words.
"The _Eye_talian, and his niece, are about to go ashore. Everything is
ready and understood. I've consaited you might pass out of the port, in
the dark, and escape in the boat. Keep quiet--we shall see."
Raoul understood his respite to be a thing of doubtful termination.
Under the most favorable results, an English prison remained in
perspective, and then the other side of the picture offered the image of
Ghita to his eye! He was in a tumult of feeling, but, accustomed to
self-command, no exclamation escaped him.
"When, cher Etooelle, _when_?" he asked, his whisper being tremulous, in
spite of every effort to command himself.
"Now--_too-der-sweet--(tout-de-suite)--_the boat is at the gangway, and
old Giuntotardi is in her--they are rigging a chair for the gal.
Aye--there she swings off!--don't you hear the call?"
Raoul did hear the whistle of the boatswain, which was piping "lower
away" at that very moment. He listened intently, as he lay stretched
upon the gun-tackles; and then he heard the splash in the water, as the
boat was hauled closer to, in order to be brought beneath the chair. The
rattling of oars, too, was audible, as Ghita left the seat and moved
aft. "Round in," called out the officer of the deck; after which Carlo
Giuntotardi was left in quiet possession of his own boat.
The moment was exceedingly critical. Some one, in all probability, was
watching the boat from the deck; and, though the night was dark, it
required the utmost caution to proceed with any hopes of success. At
this instant, Ithuel again whispered:
"The time's near. Old Carlo has his orders, and little Ghita is alive to
see them obeyed. All now depends on silence and activity. In less than
five minutes, the boat will be under the port."
Raul understood the plain; but it struck him as hopeless. It seemed
impossible that Ghita could be permitted to quit the ship without a
hundred eyes watching her movements, and, though it was dark, it was far
from being sufficiently so to suppose it practicable for any one to join
her and not be seen. Yet this risk must be taken, or escape was out of
the question. An order given through the trumpet was encouraging; it
announced that the officer of the watch was employed at some duty that
must draw his attention another way. This was a great deal; few
presuming to look aside while this functionary was inviting their
attention in another direction. Raoul's brain was in a whirl. The two
Italians were at the height of their discussion; and, fortunately, the
clamor they made was at the loudest. Even the suppressed laughter of the
officers, on the outside of the canvas, was audible to _him_; though the
disputants could hear nothing but their own voices. Every knock of the
boat against the ship's side, every sound of the oars, as Carlo's foot
rattled them about, and the wash of the water, was audible. It seemed as
if all the interests of life--the future, the past, and the present,
together with the emotions of his whole heart, were compressed into that
single instant. Ignorant of what was expected, he asked Ithuel, in
French, the course he ought to take.
"Am I to fall I head-foremost into the water? What would you have of
me?" he whispered.
"Lie quiet, till I tell you to move. I'll make the signal, Captain Rule;
let the Eyetalians blaze away."
Raoul could not see the water, as he lay with his head fairly in the
port; and he had to trust entirely to the single sense of hearing.
Knock, knock, knock; the boat dropped slowly along the ship's side, as
if preparing to shove off. All this, Carlo Giuntotardi managed
exceedingly well. When he lay immediately beneath the main-channels, it
would not have been an easy thing to see his boat, even had there been
any one on the lookout. Here he held on; for he was not so lost to
external things as not fully to understand what was expected of him.
Perhaps he was less attended to by those on deck, from the circumstance
that no one believed him capable of so much worldly care.
"Is everything safe for a movement, inboard?" whispered Ithuel.
Raoul raised his head and looked about him. That a group was collected
around the state-room he understood by the movements, the low
conversation, and the suppressed laughter; still, no one seemed to be
paying any attention to himself. As he had not spoken for some time,
however, he thought it might be well to let his voice be heard; and
taking care that it should sound well within the port, he made one of
the light objections to the vice-governatore's theory, that he had urged
at the commencement of the controversy. This was little heeded, as he
expected; but it served to make those without know that he was in his
prison, and might prevent an untimely discovery. Everything else seemed
propitious; and lying down again at his length, his face came within a
few inches of Ithuel's.
"All safe," he whispered; "what would you have me do?"
"Nothing, but shove yourself ahead carefully, by means of your feet."
This Raoul did; at first, as it might be, inch by inch, until Ithuel put
the end of a rope into his hands, telling him it was well fast to the
channel above. The rope rendered the rest easy; the only danger now
being of too much precipitation. Nothing would have been easier than for
Raoul to drag his body out at the port, and to drop into the boat, but,
to escape, it was still necessary to avoid observation. The ship was
quite half a league from the point of Campanella, and directly abreast
of it; and there was no security to the fugitives unless they got some
distance the start of any pursuers. This consideration induced the
utmost caution on the part of Ithuel; nor was it entirely lost on his
friend. By this time, however, Raoul found he was so completely master
of his movements as to be able to swing his legs out of the port by a
very trifling effort; then the descent into the boat would be the
easiest thing imaginable. But a pressure from the hand of Ithuel
checked him.
"Wait a little," whispered the latter, "till the Eyetalians are at it,
cat and dog fashion."
The discussion was now so loud and warm, that it was not necessary to
lose much time. Ithuel gave the signal, and Raoul dragged his head and
shoulders up by his arms, while he placed his feet against the gun; the
next moment, he was hanging perpendicularly beneath the main-chains. To
drop lightly and noiselessly into the boat, took but a second. When his
feet touched a thwart, he found that the American was there before him.
The latter dragged him down to his side, and the two lay concealed in
the bottom of the yawl, with a cloak of Ghita's thrown over their
persons. Carlo Giuntotardi was accustomed to the management of a craft
like that in which he now found himself, and simply releasing his
boat-hook from one of the chains, the ship passed slowly ahead, leaving
him, in about a minute, fairly in her wake, a hundred feet astern.
So far, everything had succeeded surprisingly. The night was so dark as
to embolden the two fugitives now to rise, and take their seats on the
thwarts; though all this was done with exceeding caution, and without
the least noise. The oars were soon out, Carlo took the tiller, and a
feeling of exultation glowed at the heart of Raoul, as he bent to his
ashen implement, and felt the boat quiver with the impulse.
"Take it coolly, Captain Rule," said Ithuel in a low voice; "it's a long
pull, and we are still within ear-shot of the frigate. In five minutes
more we shall be dropped so far as to be beyond sight; then we may pull
directly out to sea, if we wish."
Just then the bell of the Proserpine struck four; the signal it was
eight o'clock. Immediately after, the watch was called, and a stir
succeeded in the ship.
"They only turn the hands up," said Raoul, who perceived that his
companion paused, like one uneasy.
"That is an uncommon movement for shifting the watch! What is _that_?"
It was clearly the overhauling of tackles; the plash of a boat, as it
struck the water, followed.