CHAPTER I.

“Filled with the face of heaven, which from afar,
Comes down upon the waters; all its hues,
From the rich sunset to the rising star,
Their magical variety diffuse:
And now they change; a paler shadow strews
Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day
Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues
With a new colour as it gasps away,
The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is grey.”
Childe Harold.

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The charms of the Tyrrhenian Sea have been sung since
the days of Homer. That the Mediterranean, generally,
and its beautiful boundaries of Alps and Apennines, with its
deeply indented and irregular shores, forms the most delightful
region of the known earth, in all that relates to climate,
productions, and physical formation, will be readily enough
conceded by the traveller. The countries that border on
this midland water, with their promontories buttressing a
mimic ocean—their mountain-sides teeming with the picturesque
of human life — their heights crowned with watch-towers—
their rocky shelves consecrated by hermitages, and
their unrivalled sheet dotted with sails, rigged, as it might be,
expressly to produce effect in a picture, form a sort of world
apart, that is replete with delights to all who have the happy
fortune to feel charms, which not only fascinate the beholder,
but which linger in the memories of the absent like visions
of a glorious past.

Our present business is with this fragment of a creation
that is so eminently beautiful, even in its worst aspects, but

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which is so often marred by the passions of man, in its best.
While all admit how much nature has done for the Mediterranean,
none will deny that, until quite recently, it has been
the scene of more ruthless violence, and of deeper personal
wrongs, perhaps, than any other portion of the globe. With
different races, more widely separated by destinies, than even
by origin, habits and religion, occupying its northern and
southern shores, the outwork, as it might be, of Christianity
and Mohammedanism, and of an antiquity that defies history,
the bosom of this blue expanse has mirrored more violence,
has witnessed more scenes of slaughter, and heard more
shouts of victory, between the days of Agamemnon and
Nelson, than all the rest of the dominions of Neptune together.
Nature and the passions have united to render it like the
human countenance, which conceals by its smiles and godlike
expression, the furnace that so often glows within the
heart, and the volcano that consumes our happiness. For
centuries, the Turk and the Moor rendered it unsafe for the
European to navigate these smiling coasts; and when the
barbarian's power temporarily ceased, it was merely to give
place to the struggles of those who drove him from the
arena by their larger resources.

The circumstances which rendered the period that occurred
between the years 1790 and 1815, the most eventful of
modern times, are familiar to all; though the incidents which
chequered that memorable quarter of a century, have already
passed into history. All the elements of strife that then
agitated the world, appear now to have subsided as completely
as if they owed their existence to a remote age; and
living men recall the events of their youth, as they regard
the recorded incidents of other centuries. Then, each month
brought its defeat, or its victory; its account of a government
overturned, or of a province conquered. The world
was agitated like men in a tumult. On that epoch the timid
look back with wonder; the young, with doubt; and the
restless, with envy.

The years 1798 and 1799 were two of the most memorable
of this ever-memorable period; and to that stirring and
teeming season we must carry the mind of the reader, in
order to place it in the midst of the scenes it is our object to
portray.

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Towards the close of a fine day in the month of August,
a light fairy-like craft was fanning her way, before a gentle
westerly air, into what is called the Canal of Piombino,
steering easterly. The rigs of the Mediterranean are proverbial
for their picturesque beauty and quaintness, embracing
the xebeque, the felucca, the polacre, and the
bombarda, or ketch; all unknown, or nearly so, to our own
seas; and occasionally the lugger. The latter, a species of
craft, however, much less common in the waters of Italy,
than in the Bay of Biscay and the British Channel, was the
construction of the vessel in question; a circumstance that
the mariners who eyed her from the shores of Elba, deemed
indicative of mischief. A three-masted lugger, that spread
a wide breadth of canvass, with a low, dark hull, relieved
by a single and almost imperceptible line of red beneath her
channels, and a waist so deep that nothing was visible above
it but the hat of some mariner, taller than common, was
considered a suspicious vessel, and not even a fisherman
would have ventured out within reach of a shot, so long as
her character was unknown. Privateers, or corsairs, as it
was the fashion to term them, (and the name, with even its
English signification, was often merited by their acts,) not
unfrequently glided down that coast; and it was sometimes
dangerous for those who belonged to friendly nations to
meet them, in moments when the plunder that a relic of
barbarism still legalizes, had failed.

The lugger was actually of about one hundred and fifty
tons admeasurement; but her dark paint, and low hull, gave
her an appearance of being much smaller than she really
was; still, the spread of her canvass, as she came down
before the wind wing-and-wing, as seamen term it, or with
a sail fanning like the heavy pinions of a sea-fowl, on each
side, betrayed her pursuits; and, as has been intimated, the
mariners on the shore, who watched her movements, shook
their heads in distrust, as they communed among themselves,
in very indifferent Italian, concerning her destination and
object. This observation, with its accompanying discourse,
occurred on the rocky bluff above the town of Porto Ferrajo,
in the Island of Elba, a spot that has since become so renowned
as the capital of the mimic dominion of Napoleon.
Indeed, the very dwelling which was subsequently used by

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the fallen emperor as a palace, stood within a hundred yards
of the speakers, looking out towards the entrance of the
canal, and the mountains of Tuscany; or rather, of the
little principality of Piombino, the system of merging the
smaller in the larger states of Europe not having yet been
brought into extensive operation. This house, a building
of the size of a better sort of country residence of our own,
was then, as now, occupied by the Florentine governor of
the Tuscan portion of the island. It stands on the extremity
of a low rocky promontory that forms the western ramparts
of the deep extensive bay, on the side of which, ensconced
behind a very convenient curvature of the rocks, which here
incline westward in the form of a hook, lies the small port,
completely concealed from the sea, as if in dread of visits
like those which might be expected from craft resembling
the suspicious stranger. This little port, not as large in
itself as a modern dock in places like London or Liverpool,
was sufficiently protected against any probable dangers, by
suitable batteries; and as for the elements, a vessel laid upon
a shelf in a closet would be scarcely more secure. In this
domestic little basin, which, with the exception of a narrow
entrance was completely surrounded by buildings, lay a
few feluccas, that traded between the island and the adjacent
main, and a solitary Austrian ship, which had come
from the head of the Adriatic, in quest of iron, as it was
pretended, but as much to assume the appearance of trade
with the Italian dependency, as with any other purpose.

At the moment of which we are writing, however, but a
dozen living beings were visible in or about all these craft.
The intelligence that a strange lugger, resembling the one
described, was in the offing, had drawn nearly all the mariners
ashore; and most of the habitués of the port had followed
them up the broad steps of the crooked streets which
led to the heights behind the town; or to the rocky elevation
that overlooks the sea from north-east to west. The
approach of the lugger had produced some such effect on the
mariners of this unsophisticated and little-frequented port,
as that of the hawk is known to excite among the timid
tenants of the barn-yard. The rig of the stranger, in itself
a suspicious circumstance, had been noted two hours before,
by one or two old coasters, who habitually passed their idle

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moments on the heights, examining the signs of the weather,
and indulging in gossip; and their conjectures had drawn to
the Porto Ferrajo mall some twenty men, who fancied themselves,
or who actually were, cognoscenti in matters of the
sea. When, however, the low, long, dark hull, which
upheld such wide sheets of canvass, became fairly visible,
the omens thickened, rumours spread, and hundreds collected
on the spot, which, in Manhattanese parlance, would probably
have been called a battery. Nor would the name have
been altogether inappropriate, as a small battery was established
there, and that, too, in a position which would easily
throw a shot two-thirds of a league, into the offing; or about
the distance that the stranger was now from the shore.

Tommaso Tonti was the oldest mariner of Elba, and,
luckily, being a sober, and usually a discreet man, he was
the oracle of the island, in most things that related to the
sea. As each citizen, wine-dealer, grocer, innkeeper, or
worker in iron, came upon the height, he incontinently inquired
for Tonti, or 'Maso, as he was generally called; and
getting the bearings and distance of the grey-headed old
seaman, he invariably made his way to his side, until a
group of some two hundred men, women and children, had
clustered near the person of the pilota, as the faithful
gather about a favourite expounder of the law, in moments
of religious excitement. It was worthy of remark, too, with
how much consideration this little crowd of gentle Italians
treated their aged seaman, on this occasion; none bawling
out their questions, and all using the greatest care not to get
in front of his person, lest they might intercept his means
of observation. Five or six old sailors, like himself, were
close at his side: these, it is true, did not hesitate to speak
as became their experience. But Tonti had obtained no
small part of his reputation by exercising great moderation
in delivering his oracles, and, perhaps, by seeming to know
more than he actually revealed. He was reserved, therefore;
and while his brethren of the sea ventured on sundry conflicting
opinions concerning the character of the stranger,
and a hundred idle conjectures had flown from mouth to
mouth, among the landsmen and females, not a syllable that
could commit the old man, had escaped his lips. He let the
others talk at will; as for himself, it suited his habits, and

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possibly his difficulties in deciding, to maintain a grave and
portentous silence.

We have spoken of females: as a matter of course, an
event like this, in a town of some three or four thousand
souls, would be likely to draw a due proportion of the gentler
sex to the heights. Most of them contrived to get as near
as possible to the aged seaman, in order to obtain the first
intelligence, that it might be the sooner circulated; but, it
would seem, that among the younger of these, there was
also a sort of oracle of their own, about whose person
gathered a dozen of the prettiest girls; either anxious to hear
what Ghita might have to say in the premises, or, perhaps,
influenced by the pride and modesty of their sex and condition,
which taught them to maintain a little more reserve
than was necessary to the less refined portion of their companions.
In speaking of condition, however, the word must
be understood with an exceedingly limited meaning. Porto
Ferrajo had but two classes of society, the trades-people and
the labourers; although there were, perhaps, a dozen exceptions,
in the persons of a few humble functionaries of the
government, an avvacato, a medico, and a few priests. The
governor of the island was a Tuscan of rank, but he seldom
honoured the place with his presence, and his deputy was a
professional man, a native of the town, whose original
position was too well known to allow him to give himself airs
on the spot where he was born. Ghita's companions, then,
were daughters of shopkeepers, and persons of that class,
who, having been taught to read, and occasionally going to
Leghorn, beside being admitted by the deputy to the presence
of his housekeeper, had got to regard themselves as a little
elevated above the more vulgar curiosity of the less cultivated
girls of the port. Ghita herself, however, owed her
ascendency to her qualities, rather than to the adventitious
advantage of being a grocer's or an inkeeper's daughter, her
origin being unknown to most of those around her, as indeed
was her family name. She had been landed six weeks
before, and left by one who passed for her father, at the inn
of Cristoforo Dovi, as a boarder, and had acquired all her
influence, as so many reach notoriety in our own simple
society, by the distinction of having travelled; aided, somewhat,
by her strong sense, great decision of character,

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perfect modesty and propriety of deportment, with a form which
was singularly graceful and feminine, and a face, that, while
it could scarcely be called beautiful, was, in the highest
degree, winning and attractive. No one thought of asking
her family name; and she never appeared to deem it necessary
to mention it. Ghita was sufficient; it was familiar to every
one; and, although there were two or three others of the
same appellation, in Porto Ferrajo, this, by common consent,
got to be the Ghita, within a week after she had landed.

Ghita, it was known, had travelled, for she had publicly
reached Elba in a felucca, coming, as was said, from the
Neapolitan states. If this were true, she was probably the
only person of her sex in the town, who had ever seen Vesuvius,
or planted her eyes on the wonders of a part of Italy
that has a reputation second only to that of Rome. Of course,
if any girl in Porto Ferrajo could imagine the character of
the stranger, it must be Ghita; and it was on this supposition
that she had unwittingly, and, if the truth must be owned,
unwillingly, collected around her a clientelle of at least a
dozen girls of her own age, and apparently of her own class.
The latter, however, felt no necessity for the reserve maintained
by the curious who pressed near 'Maso; for, while
they respected their guest and friend, and would rather listen
to her surmises than those of any other person, they had
such a prompting desire to hear their own voices, that not a
minute escaped without a question, or a conjecture, both
volubly and quite audibly expressed. The interjections, too,
were somewhat numerous, as the guesses were crude and
absurd. One said it was a vessel with despatches from
Livorno, possibly with “His Eccellenza” on board; but she
was reminded that Leghorn lay to the north, and not to
the west. Another thought it was a cargo of priests, going
from Corsica to Rome; but she was told that priests were
not in sufficient favour, just then, in France, to get a vessel
so obviously superior to the ordinary craft of the Mediterranean,
to carry them about. While a third, more imaginative
than either, ventured to doubt whether it was a vessel
at all; deceptive appearances of this sort not being of rare
occurrence, and usually taking the aspect of something out
of the ordinary way.

“Si,” said Annina, “but that would be a miracle, Maria;

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and why should we have a miracle, now that Lent and most
of the holidays are past? I believe it is a real vessel.”

The others laughed, and, after a good deal of eager chattering
on the subject, it was quite generally admitted that
the stranger was a bonâ fide craft, of some species or another,
though all agreed she was not a felucca, a bombarda,
or a sparanara. All this time Ghita was thoughtful and
silent; quite as much so, indeed, as Tommaso himself, though
from a very different motive. Notwithstanding all the gossip,
and the many ludicrous opinions of her companions, her
eyes scarcely turned an instant from the lugger, on which
they seemed to be riveted by a sort of fascination. Had
there been one, there, sufficiently unoccupied to observe this
interesting girl, he might have been struck with the varying
expression of a countenance that was teeming with sensibility,
and which too often reflected the passing emotions of its
mistress's mind. Now an expression of anxiety, and even
of alarm, would have been detected by such an observer, if
acute enough to separate these emotions, in the liveliness of
sentiment, from the more vulgar feelings of her companions;
and now, something like gleamings of delight and happiness
flashed across her eloquent countenance. The colour came
and went often; and there was an instant, during which the
lugger varied her course, hauling to the wind, and then falling
off again, like a dolphin at its sports, when the radiance
of the pleasure that glowed about her soft blue eyes, rendered
the girl perfectly beautiful. But none of these passing
expressions were noted by the garrulous group around the
stranger female, who was left very much to the indulgence
of the impulses that gave them birth, unquestioned, and
altogether unsuspected.

Although the cluster of girls had, with feminine sensitiveness,
gathered a little apart from the general crowd, there
were but a few yards between the spot where it stood, and
that occupied by 'Maso; so that when the latter spoke, an
attentive listener among the former might hear his words.
This was an office that Tonti did not choose to undertake,
however, until he was questioned by the podestâ, Vito Viti,
who now appeared on the hill in person, puffing like a whale
that rises to breathe, from the vigour of his ascent.

“What dost thou make of her, good 'Maso?” demanded

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the magistrate, after he had examined the stranger himself
some time in silence, feeling authorized, in virtue of his
office, to question whom he pleased.

“Signore, it is a lugger;” was the brief, and, certainly, the
accurate reply.

“Ay, a lugger; we all understand that, neighbour Tonti;
but what sort of a lugger? There are felucca-luggers, and
polacre-luggers, and bombarda-luggers, and all sorts of luggers;
which sort of lugger is this?”

“Signor Podestâ, this is not the language of the port.
We call a felucca, a felucca; a bombarda, a bombarda; a
polacre, a polacre; and a lugger, a lugger. This is, therefore,
a lugger.”

'Maso spoke authoritatively, for he felt that he was now
not out of his depth, and it was grateful to him to let the
public know how much better he understood all these matters
than a magistrate. On the other hand, the podestâ was
nettled, and disappointed into the bargain, for he really
imagined he was drawing nice distinctions, much as it was
his wont to do in legal proceedings; and it was his ambition
to be thought to know something of every thing.

“Well, Tonti,” answered Signor Viti, in a protecting
manner, and with an affable smile, “as this is not an affair
that is likely to go to the higher courts at Florence, your
explanations may be taken as sufficient, and I have no wish
to disturb them—a lugger, is a lugger.”

“Si, Signore; that is just what we say in the port. A
lugger, is a lugger.”

“And yonder strange craft, you maintain, and at need
are ready to swear, is a lugger?”

Now 'Maso seeing no necessity for any oath in the affair,
and being always somewhat conscientious in such matters,
whenever the custom-house officers did not hold the book,
was a little startled at this suggestion, and he took another,
and a long look at the stranger, before he answered.

“Si, Signore,” he replied, after satisfying his mind once
more, through his eyes, “I will swear that the stranger,
yonder, is a lugger.”

“And canst thou add, honest Tonti, of what nation? The
nation is of as much moment, in these troubled times, as the
rig.”

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“You say truly, Signor Podestâ; for if an Algerine, or a
Moor, or even a Frenchman, he will be an unwelcome visiter
in the Canal of Elba. There are many different signs about
him, that sometimes make me think he belongs to one people,
and then to another; and I crave your pardon, if I ask a
little leisure, to let him draw nearer, before I give a positive
opinion.”

As this request was reasonable, no objection was raised.
The podestâ turned aside, and observing Ghita, who had
visited his niece, and of whose intelligence he entertained
a favourable opinion, he drew nearer to the girl, determined
to lose a moment in dignified trifling.

“Honest 'Maso, poor fellow, is sadly puzzled,” he observed,
smiling benevolently, as if in pity for the pilot's embarrassment;
“he wishes to persuade us that the strange craft
yonder is a lugger, though he cannot, himself, say to what
country she belongs!”

“It is a lugger, Signore,” returned the girl, drawing a long
breath, as if relieved by hearing the sound of her own voice.

“How! dost thou pretend to be so skilled in vessels, as
to distinguish these particulars at the distance of a league?”

“I do not think it a league, Signore—not more than half
a league; and the distance lessens fast, though the wind is
so light. As for knowing a lugger from a felucca, it is as
easy as to know a house from a church; or one of the
reverend padri, in the streets, from a mariner.”

“Ay, so I would have told 'Maso on the spot, had the
obstinate old fellow been inclined to hear me. The distance
is just about what you say; and nothing is easier than
to see that the stranger is a lugger. As to the nation?—”

“That may not be so easily told, Signore, unless the vessel
show us her flag.”

“By San Antonio! thou art right, child; and it is fitting
she should show us her flag. Nothing has a right to approach
so near the port of his Imperial and Royal Highness,
that does not show its flag, thereby declaring its honest
purpose, and its nation. My friends, are the guns in the
battery loaded, as usual?”

The answer being in the affirmative, there was a hurried
consultation among some of the principal men in the crowd,
and then the podestâ walked towards the government-house

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with an important air. In five minutes soldiers were seen
in the batteries, and preparations were made for levelling an
eighteen-pounder in the direction of the stranger. Most of
the females turned aside, and stopped their ears, the battery
being within a hundred yards of the spot where they stood;
but Ghita, with a face that was pale, certainly, though with
an eye that was steady, and without the least indications of
fear, as respected herself, intensely watched every movement.
When it was evident the artillerists were about to
fire, anxiety induced her to break silence.

“They surely will not aim at the lugger!” she exclaimed.
“That cannot be necessary, Signor Podestâ, to make the
stranger hoist his flag. Never have I seen that done in the
south.”

“You are unacquainted with our Tuscan bombardiers,
Signorina,” answered the magistrate, with a bland smile,
and an exulting gesture. “It is well for Europe that the
grand duchy is so small, since such troops might prove even
more troublesome than the French!”

Ghita, however, paid no attention to this touch of provincial
pride, but pressing her hands on her heart, she stood
like a statue of suspense, while the men in the battery executed
their duty. In a minute the match was applied, and
the gun was discharged. Though all her companions
uttered invocations to the saints, and other exclamations, and
some even crouched to the earth in terror, Ghita, the most
delicate of any, in appearance, and with more real sensibility
than all united expressed in her face, stood firm and erect.
The flash and the explosion evidently had no effect on her;
not an artillerist among them was less unmoved in frame, at
the report, than this slight girl. She even imitated the
manner of the soldiers, by turning to watch the flight of the
shot, though she clasped her hands as she did so, and appeared
to await the result with trembling. The few seconds
of suspense were soon past, when the ball was seen to strike
the water fully a quarter of a mile astern of the lugger, and
to skip along the placid sea for twice that distance further,
when it sunk to the bottom by its own gravity.

“Santa Maria be praised!” murmured the girl, a smile
half pleasure, half irony, lighting her face, as unconsciously

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to herself she spoke, “these Tuscan artillerists are no fatal
marksmen!”

“That was most dexterously done, bella Ghita!” exclaimed
the magistrate, removing his two hands from his
ears; “that was amazingly well aimed! Another such
shot as far ahead, with a third fairly between the two, and
the stranger will learn to respect the rights of Tuscany.
What say'st thou now, honest 'Maso — will this lugger tell
us her country, or will she further brave our power?”

“If wise, she will hoist her ensign; and yet I see no signs
of preparation for such an act.”

Sure enough, the stranger, though quite within effective
range of shot from the heights, showed no disposition to
gratify the curiosity, or to appease the apprehensions of
those in the town. Two or three of her people were visible
in her rigging, but even these did not hasten their work, or
in any manner seem deranged at the salutation they had
just received. After a few minutes, however, the lugger
jibed her mainsail, and then hauled up a little, so as to look
more towards the head-land, as if disposed to steer for the
bay, by doubling the promontory. This movement caused
the artillerists to suspend their own, and the lugger had fairly
come within a mile of the cliffs, ere she lazily turned aside
again, and shaped her course once more in the direction of
the entrance of the Canal. This drew another shot, which
effectually justified the magistrate's eulogy, for it certainly
flew as much ahead of the stranger, as the first had flown
astern.

“There, Signore,” cried Ghita eagerly, as she turned to
the magistrate, “they are about to hoist their ensign, for
now they know your wishes. The soldiers surely will not
fire again!”

“That would be in the teeth of the law of nations, Signorina,
and a blot on Tuscan civilization. Ah! you perceive
the artillerists are aware of what you say, and are putting
aside their tools. Cospetto! 'tis a thousand pities, too, they
couldn't fire the third shot, that you might see it strike the
lugger; as yet, you have only beheld their preparations.”

“It is enough, Signor Podestâ,” returned Ghita, smiling,
for she could smile now that she saw the soldiers intended
no furthermischief; “we have all heard of your Elba gunners,

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and what I have seen convinces me of what they can do,
when there is occasion. Look, Signore! the lugger is about
to satisfy our curiosity.”

Sure enough, the stranger saw fit to comply with the
usages of nations. It has been said, already, that the lugger
was coming down before the wind wing-and-wing, or
with a sail expanded to the air on each side of her hull, a
disposition of the canvass that gives to the felucca, and to
the lugger in particular, the most picturesque of all their
graceful attitudes. Unlike the narrow-headed sails that a
want of hands has introduced among ourselves, these foreign,
we might almost say classical mariners, send forth their
long pointed yards aloft, confining the width below by the
necessary limits of the sheet, making up for the difference
in elevation, by the greater breadth of their canvass. The
idea of the felucca's sails, in particular, would seem to have
been literally taken from the wing of the large sea-fowl, the
shape so nearly corresponding, that, with the canvass spread
in the manner just mentioned, one of those light craft has a
very close resemblance to the gull or the hawk, as it poises
itself in the air, or is swooping down upon its prey. The
lugger has less of the beauty that adorns a picture, perhaps,
than the strictly latine rig; but it approaches so near it as
to be always pleasing to the eye, and, in the particular evolution
described, is scarcely less attractive. To the seaman,
however, it brings with it an air of greater service, being a
mode of carrying canvass that will buffet with the heaviest
gales, or the roughest seas, while it appears so pleasant to
the eye in the blandest airs, and smoothest water.

The lugger that was now beneath the heights of Elba had
three masts, though sails were spread only on the two that
were forward. The third mast was stepped on the taffrail;
it was small, and carried a little sail, that, in English, is
termed a jigger, its principal use being to press the bows of
the craft up to the wind, when close hauled, and render her
what is termed weatherly. On the present occasion, there
could scarcely be said to be anything deserving the name of
wind, though Ghita felt her cheek, which was warmed with
the rich blood of her country, fanned by an air so gentle,
that occasionally it blew aside tresses, that seemed to vie
with the floss silk of her native land. Had the natural

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ringlets been less light, however, so gentle a respiration of
the sea air could scarcely have disturbed them. But the
lugger had her lightest duck spread — reserving the heavier
canvass for the storms — and it opened like the folds of a
balloon, even before these gentle impulses; occasionally collapsing,
it is true, as the ground-swell swung the yards to
and fro, but, on the whole, standing out and receiving the
air, as if guided more by volition than any mechanical power.
The effect on the hull was almost magical; for, notwithstanding
the nearly imperceptible force of the propelling
power, owing to the lightness and exquisite mould of the
craft, it served to urge her through the water at the rate of
some three or four knots in the hour; or quite as fast as an
ordinarily active man is apt to walk. Her motion was
nearly unobservable to all on board, and might rather be
termed gliding than sailing, the ripple under her cut-water
not much exceeding that which is made by the finger, as it
is moved swiftly through the element; still the slightest
variation of the helm changed her course, and this so easily
and gracefully, as to render her deviations and inclinations
like those of the duck. In her present situation, too, the
jigger, which was brailed, and hung festooned from its light
yard, ready for use, should occasion suddenly demand it,
added singularly to the smart air which everything wore
about this craft, giving her, in the seaman's eyes, that particularly
knowing and suspicious look, which had awakened
'Maso's distrust.

The preparations to show the ensign, which had caught
the quick and understanding glance of Ghita, and which had
not escaped even the duller vision of the artillerists, were
made at the outer end of this jigger-yard. A boy had
appeared on the taffrail, and he was evidently clearing the
ensign-halyards for that purpose. In half a minute, however,
he disappeared, and then a flag rose steadily, and by
a continued pull, to its station. At first the bunting hung
suspended in a line, so as to evade all examination; but, as
if everything on board this light craft were on a scale as
airy and buoyant as herself, the folds soon expanded, showing
a white field, traversed at right angles with a red cross,
and having a union of the same tint in its upper and inner
corner.

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

“Inglese!” exclaimed 'Maso, infinitely aided in this conjecture
by the sight of the stranger's ensign — “Si, Signore;
it is an Englishman; I thought so, from the first, but as the
lugger is not a common rig for vessels of that nation, I did
not like to risk anything, by saying it.”

“Well, honest Tommaso, it is a happiness to have a mariner
as skilful as yourself, in these troublesome times, at one's
elbow! I do not know how else we should ever have found
out the stranger's country. An Inglese! Corpo di Bacco!
Who would have thought that a nation so maritime, and
which lies so far off, would send so small a craft this vast
distance! Why, Ghita, it is a voyage from Elba to Livorno,
and yet, I dare say, England is twenty times farther.”

“Signore, I know little of England, but I have heard that
it lies beyond our own sea. This is the flag of the country,
however; for that have I often beheld. Many ships of that
nation come upon the coast, further south.”

“Yes, it is a great country for mariners; though they
tell me it has neither wine nor oil. They are allies of the
emperor, too, and deadly enemies of the French, who have
done so much harm in upper Italy. That is something,
Ghita, and every Italian should honour the flag. I fear this
stranger does not intend to enter our harbour!”

“He steers as if he did not, certainly, Signor Podestâ,”
said Ghita, sighing so gently that the respiration was audible
only to herself. “Perhaps he is in search of some of the
French, of which they say so many were seen, last year,
going east.”

“Ay, that was truly an enterprise!” answered the magistrate,
gesticulating on a large scale, and opening his eyes
by way of accompaniments. “General Bonaparte, he who
had been playing the devil in the Milanese, and the states
of the Pope, for the last two years, sailed, they sent us word,
with two or three hundred ships, the saints, at first, knew
whither. Some said, it was to destroy the holy sepulchre;
some, to overturn the Grand Turk; and some thought, to
seize the islands. There was a craft in here, the same
week, which said he had got possession of the Island of
Malta; in which case we might look out for trouble in Elba.
I had my suspicions, from the first!”

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

“All this I heard, at the time, Signore, and my uncle probably
could tell you more—how we all felt at the tidings!”

“Well, that is all over now, and the French are in Egypt.
Your uncle, Ghita, has gone upon the main, I hear?” this
was said inquiringly, and it was intended to be said carelessly;
but the podestâ could not prevent a glance of suspicion
from accompanying the question.

“Signore, I believe he has; but I know little of his affairs.
The time has come, however, when I ought to expect him.
See, Eccellenza,” a title that never failed to mollify the
magistrate, and turn his attention from others entirely to
himself, “the lugger really appears disposed to look into
your bay, if not actually to enter it!”

This sufficed to change the discourse. Nor was it said
altogether without reason; the lugger, which by this time
had passed the western promontory, actually appearing disposed
to do as Ghita conjectured. She had jibed her mainsail—
brought both sheets of canvass on her larboard side,
and luffed a little, so as to cause her head to look towards
the opposite side of the bay, instead of standing in, as before,
in the direction of the canal. This change in the lugger's
course produced a general movement in the crowd, which
began to quit the heights, hastening to descend the terraced
streets, in order to reach the haven. 'Maso and the podestâ
led the van, in this descent; and the girls, with Ghita in their
midst, followed with equal curiosity, but with eager steps.
By the time the throng was assembled on the quays, in the
streets, on the decks of feluccas, or at other points that
commanded the view, the stranger was seen gliding past, in
the centre of the wide and deep bay, with his jigger hauled
out, and his sheets aft, looking up nearly into the wind's eye,
if that could be called wind, which was still little more than
the sighing of the classical zephyr. His motion was necessarily
slow, but it continued light, easy, and graceful. After
passing the entrance of the port a mile or more, he tacked
and looked up towards the haven. By this time, however,
he had got so near in to the western cliffs, that their lee deprived
him of all air; and after keeping his canvass open
half an hour in the little roads, it was all suddenly drawn to
the yards, and the lugger anchored.

CHAPTER II.

“His stock, a few French phrases, got by heart,
With much to learn, but nothing to impart;
The youth obedient to his sire's commands,
Sets off a wanderer into foreign lands.”
Cowper.

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

It was now nearly dark, and the crowd, having satisfied
its idle curiosity, began slowly to disperse. The Signor
Viti remained till the last, conceiving it to be his duty to be
on the alert, in such troubled times; but with all his bustling
activity, it escaped his vigilance and means of observation
to detect the circumstance that the stranger, who, while he
steered into the bay with so much confidence, had contrived
to bring up at a point where not a single gun from the batteries
could be brought to bear on him; while his own shot,
had he been disposed to hostility, would have completely
raked the little haven. But Vito Viti, though so enthusiastic
an admirer of the art, was no gunner himself, and little
liked to dwell on the effect of shot, except as it applied to
others, and not at all to himself.

Of all the suspicious, apprehensive and curious, who had
been collected in and about the port, since it was known the
lugger intended to come into the bay, Ghita and 'Maso
alone remained on watch, after the vessel anchored. A loud
hail had been given by those entrusted with the execution
of the quarantine laws, the great physical bug-bear and
moral mystification of the Mediterranean; and the questions
put had been answered in a way to satisfy all scruples for
the moment. The “From whence came ye?” asked, however,
in an Italian idiom, had been answered by “Inghilterra,
touching at Lisbon and Gibraltar,” all regions beyond distrust,
as to the plague, and all happening, at that moment,
to give clean bills of health. But the name of the craft, herself,
had been given in a way to puzzle all the proficients in
Saxon English that Porto Ferrajo could produce. It had
been distinctly enough pronounced by some one on board,
and at the request of the quarantine department, had been

[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

three times slowly repeated, very much after the following
form; viz. —

“Come chiamate il vostro bastimento?”

“The Wing-And-Wing.”

“Come?”

“The Wing-And-Wing.”

A long pause, during which the officials put their heads
together, first to compare the sounds of each with those of
his companions' ears, and then to inquire of one who professed
to understand English, but whose knowledge was such
as is generally met with in a linguist of a little-frequented
port, the meaning of the term.

“Ving-y-ving!” growled this functionary, not a little
puzzled, “what ze devil sort of name is zat! Ask zem
again.”

“Come si chiama la vostra barca, Signori Inglesi?”
repeated he who hailed.

“Diable!” growled one back, in French, “she is called
ze Wing-And-Wing, `Ala e Ala,”' giving a very literal
translation of the name, in Italian.

“Ala e ala!” repeated they of the quarantine, first looking
at each other in surprise, and then laughing, though in
a perplexed and doubtful manner; “Ving-y-Ving!”

This passed just as the lugger anchored, and the crowd
had begun to disperse. It caused some merriment, and it
was soon spread in the little town that a craft had just
arrived from Inghilterra, whose name, in the dialect of that
island, was “Ving-y-Ving;” which meant “Ala e ala,” in
Italian; a cognomen that struck the listeners as sufficiently
absurd. In confirmation of the fact, however, the lugger
hoisted a small square flag, at the end of her main-yard, on
which were painted, or wrought, two large wings, as they
are sometimes delineated in heraldry, with the beak of a
galley between them; giving the whole conceit something
very like the appearance that the human imagination has
assigned to those heavenly beings, cherubs. This emblem
seemed to satisfy the minds of the observers, who were too
much accustomed to the images of art, not to obtain some
tolerably distinct notions, in the end, of what “Ala e ala”
meant.

But 'Maso, as has been said, remained after the rest had

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

departed to their homes and their suppers, as did Ghita.
The pilot, for such was Tonti's usual appellation, in consequence
of his familiarity with the coast, and his being principally
employed to direct the navigation of the different
craft in which he served, kept his station on board a felucca
to which he belonged, watching the movements of the lugger,
while the girl had taken her stand on the quay, in a position
that better became her sex, since it removed her from immediate
contact with the rough spirits of the port, while it enabled
her to see what occurred about the Wing-And-Wing.
More than half an hour elapsed, however, before there were
any signs of an intention to land; but, by the time it was
dark, a boat was ready, and it was seen making its way to
the common stairs, where one or two of the regular officials
were ready to receive it.

It is unnecessary to dwell on the forms of the pratique
officers. These troublesome persons had their lanterns, and
were vigilant in examining papers, as is customary; but it
would seem, the mariner in the boat had everything en
règle, for he was soon suffered to land. At this instant,
Ghita passed near the group, and took a close and keen survey
of the stranger's form and face, her own person being
so enveloped in a mantle, as to render a recognition of it
difficult, if not impossible. The girl seemed satisfied with
this scrutiny, for she immediately disappeared. Not so with
'Maso, who by this time had hurried round from the felucca,
and was at the stairs in season to say a word to the stranger.

“Signore,” said the pilot, “his Eccellenza, the podestâ,
has bidden me say to you, that he expects the honour of your
company, at his house, which stands so near us, hard by
here, in the principal street, as will make it only a pleasure
to go there; I know he would be disappointed, if he failed
of the happiness of seeing you.”

“His Eccellenza is a man not to be disappointed,” returned
the stranger, in very good Italian, “and five minutes
shall prove to him how eager I am to salute him;” then
turning to the crew of his boat, he ordered them to return on
board the lugger, and not to fail to look out for the signal by
which he might call them ashore.

'Maso, as he led the way to the dwelling of Vito Viti,

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

would fain ask a few questions, in the hope of appeasing
certain doubts that beset him.

“Since when, Signor Capitano,” he inquired, “have you
English taken to sailing luggers? It is a novel rig for one
of your craft.”

“Corpo di Bacco!” answered the other, laughing, “friend
of mine, if you can tell the precise day when brandy and laces
were first smuggled from France into my country, I will
answer your question. I think you have never navigated
as far north as the Bay of Biscay and our English Channel,
or you would know that a Guernsey-man is better acquainted
with the rig of a lugger, than with that of a ship.”

“Guernsey is a country I never heard of,” answered
'Maso, simply; “is it like Holland—or more like Lisbon?”

“Very little of either. Guernsey is a country that was
once French, and where many of the people still speak the
French language, but of which the English have been masters
this many an age. It is an island subject to King
George, but which is still half Gallic in names and usages.
This is the reason why we like the lugger better than the
cutter, which is a more English rig.”

'Maso was silent, for, if true, the answer at once removed
many misgivings. He had seen so much about the strange
craft which struck him as French, that doubts of her character
had obtruded; but, if her captain's account could only
be substantiated, there was an end of distrust. What could
be more natural than the circumstance that a vessel fitted
out in an island of French origin, should betray some of the
peculiarities of the people who built her?

The podestâ was at home, in expectation of this visit, and
'Maso was first admitted to a private conference, leaving the
stranger in an outer room. During this brief conference,
the pilot communicated all he had to say — both his suspicions
and the seeming solution of the difficulties; and then
he took his leave, after receiving the boon of a paul. Vito
Viti now joined his guest, but it was so dark, lights not
having yet been introduced, that neither could distinguish
the other's countenance.

“Signor Capitano,” observed the magistrate, “the deputy-governor
is at his residence, on the hill, and he will expect

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

me to do him the favour to bring you thither, that he may
do you the honours of the port.”

This was said so civilly, and was, in itself, both so reasonable
and so much in conformity with usage, that the other
had not a word to say against it. Together, then, they left
the house, and proceeded towards the government-dwelling—
a building which has since become celebrated as having
been the residence of a soldier who came so near subjugating
Europe. Vito Viti was a short, pursy man, and he took his
time to ascend the stairs-resembling street; but his companion
stepped from terrace to terrace with an ease and
activity that, of themselves, would have declared him to be
young, had not this been made apparent by his general
bearing and his mien, as seen through the obscurity.

Andrea Barrofaldi, the vice-governatore, was a very different
sort of person from his friend the podestâ. Although
little more acquainted with the world, by practice, the vice-governatore
was deeply read in books; owing his situation,
in short, to the circumstance of his having written several
clever works, of no great reputation, certainly, for genius,
but which were useful in their way, and manifested scholarship.
It is very seldom that a man of mere letters is qualified
for public life; and yet there is an affectation, in all
governments, most especially in those which care so little
for literature in general, as to render some professions of
respect for it necessary to their own characters, of protecting
it; and thus it is, that among ourselves, where the laws are so
indifferent to the rights and interests of men of this class as
to subject them to costs and penalties, in the prosecution of
their ordinary labours, that no other Christian nation dreams
of exacting, we hear high-sounding pretensions to this species
of liberality, although the system of rewards and punishments
[1] that prevails, usually requires that its beneficiary

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

should first rat, in order to prove his adaptation to the duty.
Andrea Barrofaldi, however, had thrown no political summerset,
and had consequently been inducted into his present
office without even the sentimental profession of never having
asked for it. The situation had been given to him by the
Fossombrone of his day, without a word having been said
in the journals of Tuscany of his doubts about accepting it,
and everything passed, as things are apt to pass when there
are true simplicity and good faith at the bottom, without
pretension or comment. He had now been ten years in
office, and had got to be exceedingly expert in discharging
all the ordinary functions of his post, which he certainly
did with zeal and fidelity. Still, he did not desert
his beloved books, and, quite àpropos of the matter about to
come before him, the Signor Barrofaldi had just finished a
severe, profound, and extensive course of study in geography.

The stranger was left in the ante-chamber, while Vito
Viti entered an inner room, and had a short communication
with his friend, the vice-governatore. As soon as this was
ended, the former returned, and ushered his companion into
the presence of the substitute for a grand duke, if not for a
king. As this was the sailor's first appearance within the
influence of a light sufficiently strong to enable the podestâ
to examine his person, both he and Andrea Barrofaldi turned
their eyes on him with lively curiosity, the instant the rays
of a strong lamp enabled them to scrutinize his appearance.
Neither was disappointed, in one sense, at least; the countenance,
figure, and mien of the mariner much more than
equalling his expectations.

The stranger was a man of six-and-twenty, who stood five
feet ten in his stockings, and whose frame was the very
figure of activity, united to a muscle that gave very fair
indications of strength. He was attired in an undress naval
uniform, which he wore with a smart air, that one who
understood these matters, more by means of experience, and

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

less by means of books, than Andrea Barrofaldi, would at
once have detected did not belong to the manly simplicity of
the English wardrobe. Nor were his features, in the slightest
degree, those of one of the islanders, the outline being
beautifully classical, more especially about the mouth and
chin, while the cheeks were colourless, and the skin swarthy.
His eye, too, was black as jet, and his cheek was half covered
in whiskers of a hue dark as the raven's wing. His face,
as a whole, was singularly beautiful — for handsome is a
word not strong enough to express all the character that
was conveyed by a conformation that might be supposed to
have been copied from some antique medal, more especially
when illuminated by a smile that, at times, rendered the
whole countenance almost as bewitching as that of a lovely
woman. There was nothing effeminate in the appearance
of the young stranger, notwithstanding; his manly,
though sweet voice, well-knit frame, and firm look, affording
every pledge of resolution and spirit.

Both the vice-governatore and the podestâ were struck
with the unusual personal advantages and smart air of the
stranger, and each stood looking at him half-a-minute in
silence, after the usual salutations had passed, and before the
party was seated. Then, as the three took chairs, on a
motion from Signor Barrofaldi, the latter opened the discourse.

“They tell me that we have the honour to receive into
our little haven a vessel of Inghilterra, Signor Capitano,”
observed the vice-governatore, earnestly regarding the other
through his spectacles as he spoke, and that, too, in a manner
not altogether free from distrust.

“Signor Vice-governatore, such is the flag under which I
have the honour to serve;” returned the mariner.

“You are an Inglese, yourself, I trust, Signor Capitano—
what name shall I enter in my book, here?”

“Jaques Smeet,” answered the other, betraying what
might have proved two very fatal Shibboleths, in the ears
of those who were practised in the finesse of our very unmusical
language, by attempting to say “Jack Smith.”

“Jaques Smeet!” repeated the vice-governatore — “that
is, Giacomo, in our Italian —”

“No—no—Signore,” hastily interrupted Captain Smeet,

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

“not Jaqueomo, but Jaques — Giovanni, turned into Jaques
by the aid of a little salt water.”

“Ah! — I begin to understand you, Signore; you English
have this usage in your language, though you have
softened the word a little, in mercy to our ears. But we
Italians are not afraid of such sounds; and I know the name.—
`Giac Smeet' — Il Capitano Giac Smeet — I have long
suspected my English master of ignorance, for he was
merely one of our Leghorn pilots, who has sailed in a bastimento
de guerra of your country — he called your honourable
name `Smees,' Signore.”

“He was very wrong, Signor Vice-governatore,” answered
the other, clearing his throat by a slight effort; “we
always call our family `Smeet.”'

“And the name of your lugger, Signor Capitano Smeet?”
suspending his pen over the paper in expectation of the
answer.

“Ze Ving-And-Ving;” pronouncing the w's in a very
different way from what they had been sounded in answering
the hails.

“Ze Ving-y-Ving,” repeated Signor Barrofaldi, writing
the name in a manner to show it was not the first time he
had heard it; “ze Ving-y-Ving; that is a poetical appellation,
Signor Capitano; may I presume to ask what it signifies?”

“Ala e ala, in your Italian, Mister Vice-governatore.
When a craft like mine has a sail spread on each side, resembling
a bird, we say, in English, that she marches `Ving-and-Ving.”
'

Andrea Barrofaldi mused, in silence, near a minute.
During this interval, he was thinking of the improbability
of any but a bonâ fide Englishman's dreaming of giving a
vessel an appellation so thoroughly idiomatic, and was fast
mystifying himself, as so often happens by tyros in any
particular branch of knowledge, by his own critical acumen.
Then he half whispered a conjecture on the subject to Vito
Viti, influenced quite as much by a desire to show his neighbour
his own readiness in such matters, as by any other
feeling. The podestâ was less struck by the distinction than
his superior; but, as became one of his limited means, he
did not venture an objection.

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

“Signor Capitano,” resumed Andrea Barrofaldi, “since
when have you English adopted the rig of the lugger? It
is an unusual craft for so great a naval nation, they tell me.”

“Bah! I see how it is, Signor Vice-governatore — you
suspect me of being a Frenchman, or a Spaniard, or something
else than I claim to be. On this head, however, you
may set your heart at rest, and put full faith in what I tell
you. My name is Capitaine Jaques Smeet; my vessel is
ze Ving-and-Ving; and my service that of the king of England.”

“Is your craft, then, a king's vessel; or does she sail
with the commission of a corsair?”

“Do I look like a corsair, Signor?” demanded le Capitaine
Smeet, with an offended air; “I have reason to feel
myself injured by so unworthy an imputation!”

“Your pardon, Signor Capitano Smees — but our duty
is a very delicate one, on this unprotected island, in times as
troubled as these in which we live. It has been stated to
me, as coming from the most experienced pilot of our haven,
that your lugger has not altogether the appearance of a
vessel of the Inglese, while she has many that belong to the
corsairs of France; and a prudent caution imposes on me
the office of making certain of your nation. Once assured
of that, it will be the delight of the Elbans to prove how
much we honour and esteem our illustrious allies.”

“This is so reasonable, and so much according to what I
do myself, when I meet a stranger at sea,” cried the captain,
stretching forth both arms in a frank and inviting manner,
“that none but a knave would object to it. Pursue your
own course, Signor Vice-governatore, and satisfy all your
scruples, in your own manner. How shall this be done —
will you go on board ze Ving-and-Ving, and look for yourself—
send this honourable magistrate, or shall I show you
my commission? Here is the last, altogether at your service,
and that of his Imperial Highness, the Grand Duke.”

“I flatter myself with having sufficient knowledge of
Inghilterra, Signor Capitano, though it be by means of books,
to discover an impostor, could I believe you capable of appearing
in so unworthy a character; and that, too, in a
very brief conversation. We book-worms,” added Andrea
Barrofaldi, with a glance of triumph at his neighbour, for he

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

now expected to give the podestâ an illustration of the practical
benefits of general learning, a subject that had often
been discussed between them, “we book-worms can manage
these trifles in our own way; and if you will consent to
enter into a short dialogue on the subject of England, her
habits, language and laws, this question will be speedily put
at rest.”

“You have me at command; and nothing would delight
me more than to chat for a few minutes about that little
island. It is not large, Signore, and is doubtless of little
worth; but, as my country, it is much in my eyes.”

“This is natural. And now, Signor Capitano, added
Andrea, glancing at the podestâ, to make sure that he was
listening, “will you have the goodness to explain to me
what sort of a government this Inghilterra possesses —
whether monarchy, aristocracy or democracy?”

“Peste!—that is not so easily answered. There is a king,
and yet there are powerful lords; and a democracy, too, that
sometimes gives trouble enough. Your question might
puzzle a philosopher, Signor Vice-governatore.”

“This may be true enough, neighbour Vito Viti, for the
constitution of Inghilterra is an instrument of many strings!
Your answer convinces me you have thought on the subject
of your government, Capitano, and I honour a reflecting
man, in all situations in life. What is the religion of the
country?”

“Corpo di Bacco! that is harder to answer than all the
rest! We have as many religions, in England, as we have
people. It is true, the law says one thing, on this head, but
then the men, women and children say another. Nothing
has troubled me more than this same matter of religion.”

“Ah! you sailors do not disquiet your souls with such
thoughts, if the truth must be said. Well, we will be indulgent
on this subject—though, out of doubt, you and all your
people are Luterani?”

“Set us down as what you please,” answered the captain,
with an ironical smile. “Our fathers, at any rate, were
all good Catholics once. But seamanship and the altar are
the best of friends, living quite independent of each other.”

“That I will answer for. It is much the same here, caro

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

Vito Viti, though our mariners do burn so many lamps, and
offer up so many aves.”

“Your pardon, Signor Vice-governatore,” interrupted the
Signor Smeet, with a little earnestness;” this is the great
mistake of your seamen, in general. Did they pray less,
and look to their duties more, their voyages would be shorter,
and the profits more certain.”

“Scandalous!” exclaimed the podestâ, in hotter zeal than
it was usual for him to betray —

“Nay, worthy Vito Viti, it is even so,” interrupted the
deputy, with a wave of the hand, that was as authoritative as
the concession was liberal and indicative of a spirit enlightened
by study; “the fact must be conceded. There
is the fable of Hercules and the wagoner, to confirm it. Did
our men first strive, and then pray, more would be done,
than by first praying and then striving; — and now, Signor
Capitano, a word on your language, of which I have some
small knowledge, and which doubtless you speak like a
native.”

“Sairtainlee,” answered the captain, with perfect selfcomposure,
changing the form of speech from the Italian to
the English with a readiness that proved how strong he felt
himself on this point; “one cannot fail to speak ze tongue
of his own mozair.”

This was said without any confusion of manner, and with
an accent that might very well mislead a foreigner, and it
sounded imposing to the vice-governatore, who felt a secret
consciousness that he could not have uttered such a sentence,
to save his own life, without venturing out of his depth:
therefore, he pursued the discourse in Italian.

“Your language, Signore,” observed Andrea Barrofaldi,
with warmth, “is no doubt a very noble one, for the language
in which Shakspeare and Milton wrote cannot be else;
but, you will permit me to say that it has a uniformity of
sound, with words of different letters, that I find as unreasonable
as it is embarrassing, to a foreigner.”

“I have heard such complaints before,” answered the
captain, not at all sorry to find the examination, which had
proved so awkward to himself, likely to be transferred to a
language about which he cared not at all, “and have little

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

to say in its defence. But, as an example of what you
mean —”

“Why, Signore, here are several words that I have written
on this bit of paper, which sound nearly alike, though, as
you perceive, they are quite differently spelled. Bix, bax,
box, bux, and bocks,” continued Andrea, endeavouring to
pronounce, “big,” “bag,” “bug,” “bog,” and “box,” all
of which, it seemed to him, had a very close family resemblance,
in sound, though certainly spelled with different
letters; “these are words, Signore, that are enough to drive
a foreigner to abandon your tongue in despair.”

“Indeed they are; and I often told the person who taught
me the language —”

“How; did you not learn your own tongue as we all get
our native forms of speech, by ear, when a child?” demanded
the vice-governatore, his suspicions suddenly revived.

“Without question, Signore, but I speak of books, and of
learning to read. When `big,' `bag,' `bug,' `bog,' and
`box,”' reading from the paper, in a steady voice, and a
very tolerable pronunciation, “first came before me, I felt
all the embarrassment of which you speak.”

“And did you only pronounce these words when first
taught to read them?”

This question was an awkward one to answer; but Vito
Viti began to weary of a discourse in which he could take
no part, and, most opportunely, he interposed an objection
of his own.

“Signor Barrofaldi,” he said, “stick to the lugger. All
our motives of suspicion came from Tommaso Tonti, and all
of his from the rig of Signor Smees' vessel. If the lugger
can be explained, what do we care about bixy, buxy, boxy!”

The vice-governatore was not sorry to get creditably out
of the difficulties of the language, and, smiling on his friend,
he made a gentle bow of compliance. Then he reflected a
moment, in order to plan another mode of proceeding, and
pursued the inquiry.

“My neighbour Vito Viti is right,” he said, “and we will
stick to the lugger. Tommaso Tonti is a mariner of experience,
and the oldest pilot of Elba. He tells us that the
lugger is a craft much in use among the French, and not at
all among the English, so far as he has ever witnessed.”

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

“In that Tommaso Tonti is no seaman. Many luggers are
to be found among the English; though more, certainly,
among the French. But I have already given the Signor
Viti to understand that there is such an island as Guernsey,
which was once French, but which is now English, and that
accounts for the appearances he has observed. We are
Guernsey-men — the lugger is from Guernsey — and, no
doubt, we have a Guernsey look. This is being half French,
I allow.”

“That alters the matter, altogether. Neighbour Viti,
this is all true about the island, and about its habits and its
origin; and if one could be as certain about the names,
why nothing more need be said. Are Giac Smees, and
Ving-y-Ving, Guernsey names?”

“They are not particularly so,” returned the sailor, with
difficulty refraining from laughing in the vice-governatore's
face; “Jaques Smeet' being so English, that we are the
largest family, perhaps, in all Inghilterra. Half the nobles
of the island are called Smeet', and not a few are named
Jaques. But little Guernsey was conquered; and our ancestors,
who performed that office, brought their names with
them, Signore. As for Ving-And-Ving, it is capital English.”

“I do not see, Vito, but this is reasonable. If the capitano,
now, only had his commission with him, you and I
might go to bed in peace, and sleep till morning.”

“Here, then, Signore, are your sleeping potions,” continued
the laughing sailor, drawing from his pocket several
papers. “These are my orders from the admiral; and, as
they are not secret, you can cast your eyes over them.
This is my commission, Signor Vice-governatore — this is
the signature of the English minister of marine — and here
is my own, `Jaques Smeet', as you see, and here is the
order to me, as a lieutenant, to take command of the Ving-And-Ving.”

All the orders and names were there, certainly, written in
a clear, fair hand, and in perfectly good English. The only
thing that one who understood the language perfectly would
have been apt to advert to, was the circumstance that the
words which the sailor pronounced “Jaques Smeet',” were
written, plainly enough, “Jack Smith” — an innovation on
the common practice, which, to own the truth, had proceeded

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

from his own obstinacy, and had been done in the very teeth
of the objections of the scribe who had forged the papers.
But Andrea was still too little of an English scholar to understand
the blunder, and the Jack passed, with him, quite
as currently as would “John,” “Edward,” or any other
appellation. As to the Wing-And-Wing, all was right;
though, as the words were pointed out and pronounced by
both parties, one pertinaciously insisted on calling them
“Ving-And-Ving,” and the other, “Ving-y-Ving.” All this
evidence had a great tendency towards smoothing down
every difficulty, and 'Maso Tonti's objections were pretty
nearly forgotten by both the Italians, when the papers were
returned to, and pocketed again by, their proper owner.

“It was an improbable thing that an enemy, or a corsair,
would venture into this haven of ours, Vito Viti,” said the
vice-governatore, in a self-approving manner; “for we have
a reputation for being vigilant, and for knowing our business,
as well as the authorities of Livorno, or Genova, or Napoli.”

“And that too, Signore, with nothing in the world to gain
but hard knocks and a prison,” added the Captain Smeet',
with one of his most winning smiles — a smile that even
softened the heart of the podestâ, while it so far warmed that
of his superior, as to induce him to invite the stranger to
share his own frugal supper. The invitation was accepted
as frankly as it had been given, and, the table being ready
in an adjoining room, in a few minutes Il Capitano Smees
and Vito Viti were sharing the vice-governatore's evening
meal.

From this moment, if distrust existed any longer in the
breasts of the two functionaries of Porto Ferrajo, it was so
effectually smothered as to be known only to themselves.
The light fare of an Italian kitchen, and the light wines of
Tuscany, just served to strengthen the system, and enliven
the spirits; the conversation becoming general and lively,
as the business of the moment proceeded. At that day, tea
was known throughout southern Europe as an ingredient
only for the apothecary's keeping; nor was it often to be
found among his stores; and the convives used, as a substitute,
large draughts of the pleasant mountain liquors of the
adjacent main, which produced an excitement scarcely
greater, while it may be questioned if it did as much injury

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

to the health. The stranger, however, both eat and drank
sparingly, for, while he affected to join cordially in the discourse
and the business of restoration, he greatly desired to
be at liberty to pursue his own designs.

Andrea Barrofaldi did not let so excellent an opportunity
to show his acquirements to the podestâ go by neglected.
He talked much of England, its history, its religion, government,
laws, climate, and industry; making frequent appeals
to the Capitano Smees for the truth of his opinions. In
most cases the parties agreed surprisingly, for the stranger
started with a deliberate intention to assent to everything;
but even this compliant temper had its embarrassments, since
the vice-governatore so put his interrogatories as occasionally
to give to acquiescence the appearance of dissent. The
other floundered through his difficulties tolerably well, notwithstanding;
and so successful was he, in particular, in flattering
Andrea's self-love by expressions of astonishment
that a foreigner should understand his own country so well—
better, indeed, in many respects, than he understood it
himself — and that he should be so familiar with its habits,
institutions and geography, that, by the time the flask was
emptied, the superior functionary whispered to his inferior,
that the stranger manifested so much information and good
sense, he should not be surprised if he turned out, in the
long run, to be some secret agent of the British government,
employed to make philosophical inquiries as to the trade and
navigation of Italy, with a view to improve the business
relations between the two countries.

“You are an admirer of nobility, and a devotee of aristocracy,”
added Andrea Barrofaldi, in pursuit of the subject
then in hand; “if the truth were known, a scion of some
noble house, yourself, Signore?”

“I? — Peste! — I hate an aristocrat, Signor Vice-governatore,
as I do the devil!”

This was said just after the freest draught the stranger
had taken, and with an unguarded warmth that he himself
immediately regretted.

“This is extraordinary, in an Inglese! Ah — I see how
it is — you are in the opposizione, and find it necessary to
say this. It is most extraordinary, good Vito Viti, that these
Inglese are divided into two political castes, that contradict

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

each other in everything. If one maintains that an object
is white, the other side swears it is black; and so vice versâ.
Both parties profess to love their country better than anything
else; but the one that is out of power abuses even
power itself, until it falls into its own hands.”

“This is so much like Giorgio Grondi's course towards
me, Signore, that I could almost swear he was one of these
very opposizione! I never approve of a thing that he
does not condemn, or condemn, that he does not approve.
Do you confess this much, Signor Capitano?”

“Il vice-governatore knows us better than we know ourselves,
I fear. There is too much truth in his account of
our politics; but, Signori,” rising from his chair, “I now
crave your permission to look at your town, and to return
to my vessel. The darkness has come, and discipline must
be observed.”

As Andrea Barrofaldi had pretty well exhausted his stores
of knowledge, no opposition was made; and, returning his
thanks, the stranger took his departure, leaving the two
functionaries to discuss his appearance and character over
the remainder of the flask.

eaf071v1.n1

[1] So much is said in the journals of this country concerning the
patronage the public bestows on letters, a patronage which is very much
confined to buying such works as the reader wants, and not purchasing
those for which he feels no occasion, that it forcibly reminds one of the
story of the Creole woman, who was descanting on the subject of ruling
negroes, among some friends. “If you will gouverne negres,” she
said, “you moost have système. I have système. Mon système à moi,
is système of reward and poonishment.” Then she turns to her negroes,
and addresses them, desiring her friends to note the effect.
“Mes amis,” she begins, “zo-morrow ze cane will be roipe, and you
moost moosh vork. You know me — you know mon système — it is
système of reward and poonishment. If you shall not vork, you shall
be flog; zat is poonishment; mais if you shall very moosh — very
moosh vork; you shall no be flog — zat is ze reward!”