The Pirate of the Mediterranean | Page 7

Galley harbour, where, in the days of yore, the
far-famed galleys of the knights were drawn up, and secure from attack.
On either side were white stone walls and buttresses, glittering in the
sunshine; overhead a sky of intense blueness; and below, a mirror-like
expanse of waters, reflecting the same cerulean hue, on which floated
innumerable crafts, of all shapes, sizes, and rigs, from the proud
line-of-battle ship which had triumphantly borne the flag of England
through the battle and the breeze, to the little caique with its great big
eyes in its bow and strange-shaped stem and high outlandish stern,
filled with its swarthy, skirmish crew of vociferating natives. Among
the merchantmen, the ensigns of all nations might be seen--the stars
and stripes of Uncle Sam's freedom-loving people alongside the black
lowering eagle of Russia; the cross of the Christian Greek, and the
crescent of the infidel Turk; there was the banner of the Pope, and of
Sardinia, and of various other Italian States; but outnumbering them all,
by far, was the red flag of Britain. Far out to the eastward, where the
sky and sea formed the horizon, there was a slight, gauze-like, whitish
haze, through which could be seen the lofty canvas of several vessels,
rising, as it were, like spirits from the watery deep, and just catching
the rays of the sun declining in the opposite direction, which gave an
unusual brilliancy to their wide-spread sails. But the craft which most
attracted the attention of our friends was the one Raby had been
looking at.
He pointed her out to his brother midshipman, and handed him the
telescope.
"What do you think of her?" he asked. "She is a rum one to look at, isn't
she?"

Duff burst into a fit of laughter.
"Why, if the fellows haven't set their jib right between the long poking
yards of their foresail and mainsail," he exclaimed, "I never did see
such an odd rig as that before. What in the world is she?"
"That's what they call a speronara in these parts, sir," answered Bowse;
"but you'll see rummer rigs than that before long, when you go up the
Archipelago. You see that wide spread of canvass is made by crossing
her two latine sails, and setting their jib as a topsail between them.
They can lower that down, and haul their wind in an instant. These sails,
to my mind, are very good where light airs and smooth seas prevail,
though they would not answer in our northern latitudes; and they
require a good many more people to handle them than we could spare
for the work. They reef their canvas, not like fore-and-aft sails in
general, by the foot, but by the leach along to the yard. There's no
doubt, however, though they have an outlandish look, that they sail
well on a wind, and not badly before it, too, as we see by the craft
below us there."
Onward gracefully glided the speronara--such is the name given to the
craft which ply between Malta and Sicily with goods and passengers,
and from some port in the latter island she seemed to have come, from
the direction in which she appeared. On she came very rapidly,
considering the light breeze; she was evidently a very fast craft of her
class. She came abreast of Fort Saint Elmo, and soon after took in her
outlandish topsail, as Duff called, just before she passed close under the
spot where our friends were posted, so that they could look directly
down on her deck. She seemed to be full of men habited in the long
blue caps and striped shirt of Mediterranean mariners, with light-blue
trowsers, and a red sash round the waist. She was of considerable size,
and, what is unusual with craft of her description, she was decked
fore-and-aft, though her between-decks must have been inconveniently
low. There was a place sunk aft where stood the helmsman holding his
long tiller, and on either side were arranged, ready for use, several long
sweeps; but the wind was at present sufficient to impel the vessel along
without their aid. Thus much was seen as she ran up the harbour. She

passed close to the Zodiac, the mate of which, by his gestures, seemed
to be speaking to the crew, and scolding them for the risk they ran of
getting foul of her, and they then appeared to be uncertain where to
bring up. At last she crossed over to the Ione, and finally rounding to,
took in her foresail, and dropped her anchor off the custom-house.
The midshipmen and their companion soon got tired of looking down
upon the harbour. Captain Bowse was obliged to part from them, as he
had business to transact; and they finally agreed, as they