The Pirate of the Mediterranean | Page 8

had still a
couple of hours of daylight, to hire a couple of horses of old Salvatore,
in the Palace-square, and to take a gallop into the country, as a
preparation for a grand ball which was to take place that evening at the
Auberge de Provence, and where Raby promised Jemmy Duff he would
point him out Miss Garden. Away hurried the two happy youngsters,
without casting another thought on the speronara. I, however,
particularly wish my readers not to forget her, and also to remember the
man-of-war brig, and the merchantman, as both are destined to play a
conspicuous part in the following narrative.
CHAPTER TWO.
The speronara would, on a near inspection by a nautical eye, appear
somewhat different to the general run of vessels of her rig and build.
There was evidently the greatest attention paid to her ropes, spars, and
oars. They were of the best hemp and toughest wood; not a stranded or
even worn sheet or halyard was to be seen; every spar was sound, and
her canvas was new and strong. Her crew, or those who sent her out of
port, seemed to consider that much might depend on her speed and
capability of keeping the sea.
If, however, she was employed in carrying passengers between Sicily
and Malta, it was very natural that her owners should make her appear
as seaworthy as possible, to induce people to trust their lives and
property in her. We will suppose her still outside the port, soon after
Jack Raby and his companions first saw her. Evidently the most
important person on board was a young man of very pleasing exterior.
He was rather tall than otherwise, and though slight, possessed a

breadth of chest which gave promise of great strength and activity. His
complexion was sunburnt, if not dark by nature, and his lip, which
betokened scorn and firmness, and gave an unattractive expression to
his countenance, was shaded by a thick curling moustache. His features
were decidedly regular and handsome; and had they been otherwise, his
large, flashing, dark eye would have challenged observation. His age
was probably about two or three-and-thirty--he might have been
younger--and he was certainly a very remarkable person. Those who
saw him even but for a moment, went away fancying that they had been
long acquainted with his features. His costume at once betrayed his
nation; for he wore the red fez, the embroidered jacket and full white
kilt, and richly-worked leggings and slippers of the Greek, and the cast
of his countenance made one also conclude that he belonged to that
nation. The only other person on board dressed in the Greek costume,
was evidently some years younger, and was neither so tall nor so
strongly built as his companion. His countenance was decidedly
handsome, and what would be called aristocratic. It was very grave,
and, indeed, melancholy in the extreme; and an accurate observer of
character might have divined, from the form of his mouth and
expression of his eyes, that he was sadly in want of firmness and
decision in his actions, which idea, probably, would not have been very
far from the truth. His dress, though the materials were good, was as
plain as the costume he wore would allow; but it could not be otherwise
than elegant and handsome, and it sat well upon his graceful figure.
Those two persons were earnestly engaged in conversation with another,
who appeared to be the master of the vessel, and they were standing
leaning over the side, away from the rest of the people on board.
"Remember, now," observed the principal Greek to the master, "you
are to be ready to weigh and make sail at a moment's notice; it may be
to-night, even--it may be tomorrow or on the following day--I cannot
say, but you must be prepared."
"Signor, si," answered the master in a tone of deep respect. "I will take
care to obey your commands to the letter; but I am afraid there may be
some difficulty with the authorities at the custom-house. They once

suspected me of smuggling, though I was as innocent as the babe
unborn, and they may detain me."
"You know the consequences," returned the Greek, with a fierce look;
"I will listen to no excuse if anything miscarries, so look to it!"
"It is a dangerous expedition you go on, signore," observed the Sicilian
master.
"Dangerous!" exclaimed the Greek, in a tone of contempt. "Danger is
the food we live on, the air we breathe; without it life would lose half
its zest. I'll tell you what, my friend, he is but a base-born slave who
knows not how to live, and fears to die. Give me a life of activity and
excitement, and when that ceases death will be