CHAPTERCXVIII.THE INJURED MAN AND HIS ATTENDANT—A PIRATE’S YARN.Gentle in his manner and soft in speech, the chaplain approached the bedside of the wounded smuggler.“I hope and trust, Murdock, that you are more disposed now to hearken to my counsel. Remember you are at the present time in imminent danger, and there is no telling what may be the result of the terrible injuries you have received. There is no telling how soon you may be called away by a power which is omnipotent. Let me conjure of you to make some amends for the past by a sincere repentance. Remember——”“I don’t want to be preached to,” interrupted the hardened criminal; “all I want is to be left alone.”“But it is my duty to endeavour by every means in my power to bring you to a right way of thinking, and I should be sadly unmindful of my sacred mission if I neglected you at this time. I must therefore beg of you to hear me.”“I don’t want to hear you. I am nearly mad with pain and driven half crazy when I think of being cheated of my liberty. I am done this time, and if I am to slip my moorings, the sooner I do so the better. There, that will do—I don’t want any palaver. You can’t make matters any better.”“But I hope and trust I can,” returned Mr. Leverall. “Nay, I will venture to assert that I am sure I can if you will be a little reasonable. Come, Murdock, you must not, you will not turn a deaf ear to one who is prompted by the purest and best of motives in striving, as best he can, to soften your heart and make you comprehend your awful position.”“I know my position well enough. It is a hopeless one. They’ve been killing me by inches for nine long and miserable years. They’ll never be satisfied until they see the breath out of my body, and then—well, then they may cut me up piecemeal in the dissecting-room as soon as they please.”“Nobody wishes to see you dead, and you are quite wrong in such a supposition. It is not at all likely that anyone in this gaol regards you with personal animosity. It is unjust and unreasonable to suppose such a thing. You are taking a morbid view of things. Now permit me to read to you.”“No, I won’t be read to. I don’t want any long-worded sermons. I won’t listen. Leave me alone.”“But I cannot and must not leave you in your present distress. Remember you have a soul to be saved, and you must listen to the words of One who came into the world to save us all.”“You have me at an advantage,” cried the smuggler. “I am powerless, and cannot get away.”“I hope you do not want to get away?”“Yes, I do.”“He’s very self-willed, and won’t bear being spoken to,” said Knoulton, addressing himself to the chaplain.“I am perfectly assured that he is self-willed and obstinate, but that is the greater reason for my endeavouring to move him, and bring the unhappy man to a better condition. I am not in the habit of giving up persons of his nature as altogether hopeless.”The chaplain then, in a slow, measured voice, read from the volume he had brought with him. Murdock this time made no objection. He closed his eyes, and appeared to be half asleep, nevertheless he listened to much the chaplain uttered.The reading lasted some quarter of an hour or twenty minutes. Mr. Leverall was under the impression that the old evil-minded man had profited by his ministrations; he closed the book, and laying hold of the smuggler’s horny hand, shook it, and then took his departure—thinking he had done enough for the present, and to continue further would be only to weary the sick man.“A good, kind gentleman,” said Knoulton, when the door had closed on the chaplain, “and he is one who takes a deep interest in all who have the misfortune to be incarcerated within these walls.”“Ugh! He means well, I dare say,” cried Murdock.“I am sure he does—no man ever meant better. I am sure I ought to speak well of him, for he has been both father and brother to me.”“Ah, it may be so; but I am too far gone, do you see? I aint to be piloted into port by any of his kidney, and so it’s no use mincing matters. I didn’t interfere with him when he let go the jawing tackle; because why—it aint no manner of use. Just heaven, what would I give to be clean out of these waters!”“And then, if you succeeded in doing so, you would not be much better off, perhaps.”“Shouldn’t I? You allow me to be the best judge of that. No better off, indeed! I tell you what it is, Walter—you don’t know why I yearn for liberty so much.”“I confess I do not.”The pirate shook his head.“Ah, that’s where it is,” said he.“Why, you must have led a strange life, I should say,” observed the young man, “and been witness of scenes that were no doubt of a harrowing nature.”“I’ve passed through a deal more than I could ever tell you—have sailed to almost every port in the world, and have had a hard time of it occasionally, but it’s all over now—Walter, all!”“Come, take some of this beef-tea,” said his attendant, drawing to the bedside of the sufferer.Murdock, with great difficulty, sat half up, his back and shoulders supported by pillows, and partook of some refreshment, which he seemed to enjoy.“There, that’ll do for the present,” said he, handing his attendant the basin. “I feel a little better now.”The hours flew by, night came on, but the sick man was unable to obtain sleep, and young Knoulton sat up and watched him with exemplary patience. As the night waned, its tedium was beguiled by conversation, for when alone with his nurse the pirate was loquacious enough, for nothing pleased him better than spinning yarns, as he termed it, and giving his companion a brief recital of some of the incidents in his earlier career.Knoulton encouraged him in this, for he argued that it was far better than his brooding over his present misfortunes.“Well, for the matter of that, I have seen all sorts of sights, both ashore and afloat,” said Murdock, “but about as terrible a bit of business it is well possible to conceive was what is termed a ‘cacciata.’”“A what?” said Knoulton.“A cacciata. It’s an Italian word, I believe, but it means a fight with knives or poignards. As I can’t sleep I’ll just give you an account of it. When I was a young man I did a little business on the cross with an Italian count. He wasn’t of much account, but that doesn’t much matter, but to talk to him you’d suppose butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. I had left my ship for a time, and visited Rome to see the sights there, and met by chance my old friend the count.“‘Ah, Murdock!’ said he, ‘what brought you here?’“‘A little matter of business in the first place,’ I answered, ‘and pleasure in the next.’“‘All right, my friend,’ he returned. ‘I’m glad to see you. You have seen most of the sights, I suppose?’“‘I have seen a good many.’“‘Have you any further visits to pay?’“‘I don’t know that I have. I think I must have seen everything—unless you have something further to show me.’“‘Well, yes,’ said the Count, ‘you may congratulate yourself, for I think I can show you something this evening that will be both novel and distracting.’“Just suit me, then,” said I, “for you must know, Walter, I was at this time a young hair-brained chap as didn’t care a straw what places I visited, or what risks I ran.”“I should imagine you to be all that,” returned Knoulton.“‘Well, we shall see,’ said the Count; ‘I must leave you, for we must not be seen together, and you must leave Rome in the morning, without fail. Not a word of our conversation to anyone. Meet me to-night in front of the Alberti Theatre. Silence, mystery, and may good fortune favour us.’“Well,” observed the pirate, “I couldn’t quite get the right soundings, so was just going to heave the lead again, when my gentleman walked swiftly away. I walked on, musing on the mysterious sensation which had been promised me by my friend. Reaching my lodgings, I put on my travelling suit, settled my account, and made arrangements for leaving in the morning, according to the count’s instructions. I was at this time a smart young fellow,” added Murdock, “and in every way different to what you see me now. Lord bless us, it appears impossible I can be the same person—but what have I not gone through since then?”“Ah, time changes the best of us,” observed his companion. “It will effect a wonderful alteration in me, no doubt, as years go on.”The pirate made no reply, but remained silent for some little time, and Knoulton was under the impression that he was too weak to continue his narrative. Such, however, was not the case, for after a somewhat lengthy pause, he renewed his story.“As soon as it was dark,” said Murdock, “I directed my steps to the Alberta Theatre. It was about eight o’clock.“I found the count promenading the walk. He was not alone, but was accompanied by a young man with a full Italian face, and who walked and chatted with him while waiting for me.“For some inexplicable reason my heart began to beat violently when my eye fell upon the count and his companion. With a gesture imposing silence upon me the count whispered—“‘Come, let us lose no time, but get into the carriage.’“It was with some astonishment that I noticed that I was not presented to the stranger. Nevertheless, so soon as we were in motion we all began to chat as if we were intimate acquaintances.“The unknown was a person of charming manners and excellent conversational power. Although somewhat effeminate, he had an air of distinction. He had that dull tinge characteristic of themeridionauxwho drink only water.“He was about twenty-four years of age; he wore a moustache of fine texture and ebon blackness; and his raven hair contrasted singularly with the whiteness of a neck whose shape would have excited the envy of a woman. He was, in short, one of the handsomest of Italians.“The carriage rolled on for some ten minutes, and was already travelling obscure streets, which to me were wholly unknown.“While it is true that I had no fear, I ought to say that the singular circumstances of this nocturnal journey awakened an emotion which bordered on inquietude, and which induced me to break out suddenly—“‘My dear friend, I accepted your proposition with my eyes closed. Now, after all this mystery, will you tell me where you are conducting me?’“‘Your pardon,’ said the count in a serious tone. ‘I have promised to enable you to assist at a spectacle such as you have never seen, and never will again in all your life; but where this spectacle will take place, I am not permitted to say. I count upon your discretion and rely upon your abstaining from all questions. I have promised you a sensation, and you shall see it; and I guarantee to you that it will be satisfactory as a sensation, for it will be most terrible and most bloody.’“‘Bloody,’ repeated I, surprised at this confidence.“‘Yes, bloody and terrifying beyond description. There is yet time. Do you wish to renounce this excursion? If you do not have the courage, I will accompany you to——’“‘My friend, I have faith in your loyalty; and I know you will do nothing unworty the character of a brave gentleman.’“‘Fear nothing,’ said the young Italian, in excellent English, ‘only wait till in your own country before you speak.’“A moment after, our carriage halted. We found ourselves in a small square, dimly lighted, a species ofcarrefour, which gave access to four streets.“We descended and waited till the carriage had driven away and the noise of its wheels was lost in the deserted streets. It was nine o’clock.“‘Follow us,’ whispered the count, ‘and do not utter a single word.’“We proceeded a dozen steps along one of the streets which led into the place, and then the count stopped before a door, and said, in a low voice—“‘It is here.’“He pushed gently against the door, which yielded easily; and then we entered a long dark corridor, at the extremity of which there shone a faint light through the curtains of a second door, which seemed to open into some lighted apartment.“We had walked about half the length of the hall, when the second door opened and there came out a man, who closed it behind him with great care. During the instant that the door was open we heard a murmur of voices, which convinced us that the room beyond was occupied by a numerous company.“At a sign from the count we all three halted. The man came softly forward until he reached the count, who stood in advance, and whispered some words in his ear, which we could not hear. The next moment he turned to the right and led us to a stairway which seemed cut in the wall, and which, by the faint light, we saw to be filthy beyond description. We followed our guide on tiptoe and in absolute silence.“We ascended several steps, and found ourselves in front of a door. Our guide took us by the hand, and we groped our way silently into the darkness of what I imagined to be a hall of some kind. The darkness was impenetrable. We were led a short distance, and then all three of us were quietly forced into a species of bruel, orcanapé—and then we waited.“What was going to happen, and what astounding thing was I about to witness? Despite my confidence in the count, I could not, in view of our marches and countermarches in the darkness, and all so silently, restrain somewhat of an apprehension.“Gradually there began to reach us, from in front and below us, the murmur of voices, and which we could not distinguish when we first entered the apartment.“From such indications as I could possess myself of, I concluded that we occupied a position with reference to those below us, like that of spectators in a gallery to the actors on the stage. These were mere suppositions, however, for the darkness was so intense that I had no means of verifying their justness.“None of us spoke.“Suddenly a great noise broke out in the place in front of us. There were cries of joy and enthusiasm; there was a general stamping of feet, and, at the same instant, directly in front of us, a curtain was drawn aside as if by magic.“I was correct in my surmise that we were in a sort of gallery. We were so placed that, without being seen, or our existence suspected, we could command a complete view of the large room below us, and in which some twenty people were conversing with each other, and throwing themselves about with a demoniacal violence.“The count whispered in my ear: ‘Now we can speak, but we must not permit ourselves to be overheard.’“‘And now,’ said I, ‘will you explain the mystery of seeing a score of Italians in a state of intoxication?’The count laughed slightly, and for an answer he said—“‘Look attentively.’As for the young Italian, he revealed his presence only by long-drawn sighs.“I could now examine at my leisure what passed below us in the room, which was lighted by four miserable lamps, and which gave out more odour than light. Some twenty persons were present.“They were ordinary men with healthy colour, and whose glances were full of pride and energy. Some of them were advanced in years and were gray; others were mere boys, but all appeared equally audacious and daring.“At the moment I had taken in these particulars, one of them had mounted a bench and commenced to speak; the rest listened with great attention, and from their attitude, I could infer that the proposition of the orator was received with favour.“All at once, it occurred to me that these men were not intoxicated. There may have been one or two whose brains were somewhat affected by drink; but none had that brutal and contemptible drunkenness which one sometimes sees among our workmen in the large cities. One would imagine them to be conspirators or bandits, but never drunkards.”“I always understood that the Italians were not addicted to habits of intemperance,” observed young Knoulton.“Neither are they—at any rate as far as my experience of them is concerned,” returned Murdock.“If the truth must be spoken I have every reason for believing that the majority, if not all of those present, were as sober as you and I are now.”“Well, we haven’t had anything to intoxicate us—that is quite certain,” said the young man, with a smile.The pirate continued—“‘What is going to happen?’ I asked the count in a low voice.“‘You see all those men,’ said the count, in a voice which vibrated with emotion; ‘they are mostly young men; in every case, they are robust. Well, my good friend, all these young men whom you see are about to poignard each other—to attempt to kill each other with an unimaginable ferocity.’“I repressed an exclamation.“‘What is it you tell me? Why, these men have the appearance of being intimate friends.’“‘They are; and it is necessary that they should be, and that they should possess a great reciprocity of esteem in order to carry out the terrible combat whose conditions they are even now arranging.’“I heard this with stupefaction. I tried to believe myself the victim of a joke on the part of my friend; but the tone of his voice left me no room to doubt.“Besides, the precautions we had taken to assist at the combat of the gladiators; the semi-revelations and mysterious occurrences of the evening did not permit me to suppose that my friend told me anything but the exact truth.“‘And will this act of savagery take place under my eyes?’“‘Let me, at first,’ said my friend, ‘explain to you this singular duel, for it is a duel sustained without enmity, without heat, without anger, for the simple purpose of proving to each other their surpassing courage, and their contempt for existence. This savage recreation, which owes its origin to barbarous ages, is called acacciatafrom the wordcaccia(hunting). From time to time, when security from the police is certain, a group of persons such as these meet in some secluded locality for the purpose of holding acaccia, whose end is solely to test their courage. But hold,’ he added, ‘that tall man whom you see at the extremity of the hall is about to announce the proposal to fight.’“At the same moment I heard, in the obscurity, our young companion rubbing his hands with great satisfaction.“Although a good deal disturbed at what I had heard, I did not lose a motion of the men.“Suddenly there arose a great tumult in the hall.“The man whom the count had indicated by his great stature, pronounced a sort of speech; but he spoke with so much heat and volubility that it was impossible for me to understand a single thing except the wordcacciata.“When he finished speaking, each man put his hand in his pocket and drew out an enormous knife, whose blade shone and sparkled with a sinister brilliancy.“‘My God,’ said I, ‘are they going to cut each other’s throats under our very eyes?’“‘Calm yourself,’ said the count, seizing my hands with force. ‘Reassure yourself, you will see nothing—what is now passing is the worst. Come, be courageous, and do not lose sight of a single movement.’“The recommendation to calm myself was wholly useless.“Despite myself I was seized by an undefinable nausea. The belief that I was about to see the room below running with human gore gave me a tremour of horror, and held me spellbound in a condition of horrible anticipation.“But such is the deformity of the human heart that, notwithstanding I experienced a most frightful repulsion, my curiosity was powerfully interested; and my fear of suffering was more than overpowered by my desire not to lose a feature of the frightful scene.“At once, and as if obedient to a signal, these twenty individuals commenced to disrobe themselves. But before commencing, and seemingly as a precaution, each placed his knife by his side and within reach. It was a formidable weapon whose variety of form indicated the character of the individuals.“With supreme calmness, and an assurance that was terrifying, they divested themselves of everything save their pantaloons, which was held up by waist belts. In almost the flash of an eye, they were stripped to the waist and ready for the combat.“It was, I assure you, a moving and cruel spectacle to see all these robust torsos, with their white or bronze colouring, thus becoming revealed in the feeble, tremulous light of the hall.“Despite the impending horror of a savage butchery I could not but admire the energetic heads, the fierce glances, and the rude muscularity of the arms now ready to deal out death.“When they cleared away the tables so as to leave the arena free, all these athletic forms assumed attitudes whose delineation would have made the fortune of a painter of the human form.“‘Now,’ said the count, ‘the fight is going to commence. The tall man whom you see in the centre of the group is recalling to them the conditions of the sanguinary combat. These conditions are—“‘The lights must be extinguished, so that he who is struck may not know who has given the blow—which is the only means of avoiding repentance on the one hand and hatred on the other.“‘It is not permitted to give a blow below the belt.“‘Whatever may be the severity of the wound which one receives he can neither utter a complaint nor a groan, as the sound of his voice would establish his identity.“‘One who is down cannot be struck. When one is wounded, or wishes to discontinue his participation in the combat, he extends himself at length and is secure from molestation.“‘But so long as there remain two of them erect, who meet each other in the darkness, they strike pitilessly at each other’s breasts, and this, despite the fact that they may be friends, relatives, or even brothers.’“And now, the last table and stool being removed, each individual placed himself, knife in hand, with his face to the wall.“There remained only the extinguishing of the light before the carnage should commence.“I followed with a horrible curiosity each phase of the savage tragedy which was about to conclude in the darkness, not more than a dozen feet from where I sat. During those latter preliminaries, I felt such a lively emotion of horror that I could scarcely refrain from uttering a cry in order to reveal our presence, and put an end to the infamous proceedings.“Had only my personal safety been involved, I should not have hesitated, but my companions were present, and they had not ceased to repeat that the smallest suspicion of our presence would compromise all of us. I was obliged, therefore, to await the termination in silence.“Soon the tallsacrophantextinguished one of the four lamps. Then the second was deliberately put out, and then the third. As I saw him approach the fourth and last one, my heart ceased to beat, and I involuntarily closed my eyes.“When I opened them it was night, silence, the profound peace of the tomb, and I seemed to be under the influence of a dream.“At a movement which I made on my seat, and which was more noisy than prudence would permit, the count seized me vigorously by the arms, and his significant pressure seemed to say, silence! At the same moment we heard a certain agitation at our feet; the combatants putting themselves into position for the attack.“From the depth of the obscurity we could at first hear only what seemed like repressed breathing, and which was scarcely perceptible.“Doubtless, each was upon the defensive, holding his breath, and acting with great circumspection which would not permit more active movements. But of all this we could see nothing—absolutely nothing; we could only guess at what was passing.“However, each moment the agitation augmented in the darkness in which swarmed these terrible gladiators.“The restrained chests began to dilate, and the vague and scarcely perceptible tumult of the first moments began to take a more pronounced form. It seemed to us that we could distinguish, at the least indication, the movements of the combatants.“We imagined we could see them bounding from one end of the hall to the other, seeking to strike an adversary during the furiousélanof their passage.“Little by little, as the blood of the combatants became frenzied, the primitive incoherence of the battle was accentuated by a horrible murmuring. The impact of rushing bodies began to be distinguishable. The clear sound of the knife striking the flesh could be heard; and then falls and hoarse rattles.“A little later, when the infernal tumult had swollen to its height, there were heard savage vociferations, sounds of suffocation, dull cries, and strange ejaculations uttered in no language and in no recognisable accent, but none the less horrible and lacerating.“This fearful occurrence, rendered still more frightful by the profound darkness, lasted some twenty minutes.“At the end of this time, somebody cried, in Italian—“‘To the floor, everybody!’ and in a moment silence reigned, as if by enchantment.“The same stalwart devil who had extinguished the lamps, now relighted them, one by one. The scene which came slowly into view from the darkness was horrible in the extreme.“Those who had not been struck during the melée immediately began to raise those who were extended in a sea of blood, their chests gashed and their arms slashed by deep blows from the knife.“A sickening odour filled the already vitiated atmosphere. The combatants pattered across the bloody floor; some crowded about the wounded, others calmly wiped their bloody knives upon their handkerchiefs. Two or three who were wounded, but who had not fallen, with bent necks, examined with cold disdain the wounds they had received.“The spectacle was at once sinister and yet full of courage, hideous and attractive, abject and full of grandeur. I wished to fly, and yet, when the moment of departure came, it was necessary to tear me away.“And this is what is known as Cacciata.”“What a horrible scene!” exclaimed Knoulton. “One would hardly suppose it possible that such atrocities could be committed in a civilised country.”“I was, as I have already told you, young at the time, but it made so deep an impression on me that I shall never forget it for the remainder of my life.”“And your friend the count?”“Oh, he died a violent death. He was stabbed in the street by a hired bravo some years after the tragic affair he had taken me to. He was a bad lot, had sold his best friends, and got himself into some scrape, the rights of which I never knew, but it ended in his death. I have seen a good many horrible sights since then, have been cast adrift on the ocean, and only saved by what one might term almost a miracle, and have been driven into this cursed port at last. Oh, how I sigh to be again on the blue water! You cannot understand the misery of my situation—’cause why? You see you have been brought up differently to what I was, and don’t and can’t feel the punishment of being cooped up under hatches for life. Death is happiness in comparison with it—perfect happiness.”“You must hold up, and not give way to desponding thoughts. If you do—”“Well, I know what you would say—I shall go to Davy Jones’s locker. Yes, that’s what you’d say. You are right enough, my lad. Feeling as I do now, I shan’t much care if I do.”Young Knoulton looked at the clock, and saw that it was time his patient had his medicine. Murdock swallowed the contents of the glass which the other presented to him, and shortly after this he sank into a fitful slumber.
Gentle in his manner and soft in speech, the chaplain approached the bedside of the wounded smuggler.
“I hope and trust, Murdock, that you are more disposed now to hearken to my counsel. Remember you are at the present time in imminent danger, and there is no telling what may be the result of the terrible injuries you have received. There is no telling how soon you may be called away by a power which is omnipotent. Let me conjure of you to make some amends for the past by a sincere repentance. Remember——”
“I don’t want to be preached to,” interrupted the hardened criminal; “all I want is to be left alone.”
“But it is my duty to endeavour by every means in my power to bring you to a right way of thinking, and I should be sadly unmindful of my sacred mission if I neglected you at this time. I must therefore beg of you to hear me.”
“I don’t want to hear you. I am nearly mad with pain and driven half crazy when I think of being cheated of my liberty. I am done this time, and if I am to slip my moorings, the sooner I do so the better. There, that will do—I don’t want any palaver. You can’t make matters any better.”
“But I hope and trust I can,” returned Mr. Leverall. “Nay, I will venture to assert that I am sure I can if you will be a little reasonable. Come, Murdock, you must not, you will not turn a deaf ear to one who is prompted by the purest and best of motives in striving, as best he can, to soften your heart and make you comprehend your awful position.”
“I know my position well enough. It is a hopeless one. They’ve been killing me by inches for nine long and miserable years. They’ll never be satisfied until they see the breath out of my body, and then—well, then they may cut me up piecemeal in the dissecting-room as soon as they please.”
“Nobody wishes to see you dead, and you are quite wrong in such a supposition. It is not at all likely that anyone in this gaol regards you with personal animosity. It is unjust and unreasonable to suppose such a thing. You are taking a morbid view of things. Now permit me to read to you.”
“No, I won’t be read to. I don’t want any long-worded sermons. I won’t listen. Leave me alone.”
“But I cannot and must not leave you in your present distress. Remember you have a soul to be saved, and you must listen to the words of One who came into the world to save us all.”
“You have me at an advantage,” cried the smuggler. “I am powerless, and cannot get away.”
“I hope you do not want to get away?”
“Yes, I do.”
“He’s very self-willed, and won’t bear being spoken to,” said Knoulton, addressing himself to the chaplain.
“I am perfectly assured that he is self-willed and obstinate, but that is the greater reason for my endeavouring to move him, and bring the unhappy man to a better condition. I am not in the habit of giving up persons of his nature as altogether hopeless.”
The chaplain then, in a slow, measured voice, read from the volume he had brought with him. Murdock this time made no objection. He closed his eyes, and appeared to be half asleep, nevertheless he listened to much the chaplain uttered.
The reading lasted some quarter of an hour or twenty minutes. Mr. Leverall was under the impression that the old evil-minded man had profited by his ministrations; he closed the book, and laying hold of the smuggler’s horny hand, shook it, and then took his departure—thinking he had done enough for the present, and to continue further would be only to weary the sick man.
“A good, kind gentleman,” said Knoulton, when the door had closed on the chaplain, “and he is one who takes a deep interest in all who have the misfortune to be incarcerated within these walls.”
“Ugh! He means well, I dare say,” cried Murdock.
“I am sure he does—no man ever meant better. I am sure I ought to speak well of him, for he has been both father and brother to me.”
“Ah, it may be so; but I am too far gone, do you see? I aint to be piloted into port by any of his kidney, and so it’s no use mincing matters. I didn’t interfere with him when he let go the jawing tackle; because why—it aint no manner of use. Just heaven, what would I give to be clean out of these waters!”
“And then, if you succeeded in doing so, you would not be much better off, perhaps.”
“Shouldn’t I? You allow me to be the best judge of that. No better off, indeed! I tell you what it is, Walter—you don’t know why I yearn for liberty so much.”
“I confess I do not.”
The pirate shook his head.
“Ah, that’s where it is,” said he.
“Why, you must have led a strange life, I should say,” observed the young man, “and been witness of scenes that were no doubt of a harrowing nature.”
“I’ve passed through a deal more than I could ever tell you—have sailed to almost every port in the world, and have had a hard time of it occasionally, but it’s all over now—Walter, all!”
“Come, take some of this beef-tea,” said his attendant, drawing to the bedside of the sufferer.
Murdock, with great difficulty, sat half up, his back and shoulders supported by pillows, and partook of some refreshment, which he seemed to enjoy.
“There, that’ll do for the present,” said he, handing his attendant the basin. “I feel a little better now.”
The hours flew by, night came on, but the sick man was unable to obtain sleep, and young Knoulton sat up and watched him with exemplary patience. As the night waned, its tedium was beguiled by conversation, for when alone with his nurse the pirate was loquacious enough, for nothing pleased him better than spinning yarns, as he termed it, and giving his companion a brief recital of some of the incidents in his earlier career.
Knoulton encouraged him in this, for he argued that it was far better than his brooding over his present misfortunes.
“Well, for the matter of that, I have seen all sorts of sights, both ashore and afloat,” said Murdock, “but about as terrible a bit of business it is well possible to conceive was what is termed a ‘cacciata.’”
“A what?” said Knoulton.
“A cacciata. It’s an Italian word, I believe, but it means a fight with knives or poignards. As I can’t sleep I’ll just give you an account of it. When I was a young man I did a little business on the cross with an Italian count. He wasn’t of much account, but that doesn’t much matter, but to talk to him you’d suppose butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. I had left my ship for a time, and visited Rome to see the sights there, and met by chance my old friend the count.
“‘Ah, Murdock!’ said he, ‘what brought you here?’
“‘A little matter of business in the first place,’ I answered, ‘and pleasure in the next.’
“‘All right, my friend,’ he returned. ‘I’m glad to see you. You have seen most of the sights, I suppose?’
“‘I have seen a good many.’
“‘Have you any further visits to pay?’
“‘I don’t know that I have. I think I must have seen everything—unless you have something further to show me.’
“‘Well, yes,’ said the Count, ‘you may congratulate yourself, for I think I can show you something this evening that will be both novel and distracting.’
“Just suit me, then,” said I, “for you must know, Walter, I was at this time a young hair-brained chap as didn’t care a straw what places I visited, or what risks I ran.”
“I should imagine you to be all that,” returned Knoulton.
“‘Well, we shall see,’ said the Count; ‘I must leave you, for we must not be seen together, and you must leave Rome in the morning, without fail. Not a word of our conversation to anyone. Meet me to-night in front of the Alberti Theatre. Silence, mystery, and may good fortune favour us.’
“Well,” observed the pirate, “I couldn’t quite get the right soundings, so was just going to heave the lead again, when my gentleman walked swiftly away. I walked on, musing on the mysterious sensation which had been promised me by my friend. Reaching my lodgings, I put on my travelling suit, settled my account, and made arrangements for leaving in the morning, according to the count’s instructions. I was at this time a smart young fellow,” added Murdock, “and in every way different to what you see me now. Lord bless us, it appears impossible I can be the same person—but what have I not gone through since then?”
“Ah, time changes the best of us,” observed his companion. “It will effect a wonderful alteration in me, no doubt, as years go on.”
The pirate made no reply, but remained silent for some little time, and Knoulton was under the impression that he was too weak to continue his narrative. Such, however, was not the case, for after a somewhat lengthy pause, he renewed his story.
“As soon as it was dark,” said Murdock, “I directed my steps to the Alberta Theatre. It was about eight o’clock.
“I found the count promenading the walk. He was not alone, but was accompanied by a young man with a full Italian face, and who walked and chatted with him while waiting for me.
“For some inexplicable reason my heart began to beat violently when my eye fell upon the count and his companion. With a gesture imposing silence upon me the count whispered—
“‘Come, let us lose no time, but get into the carriage.’
“It was with some astonishment that I noticed that I was not presented to the stranger. Nevertheless, so soon as we were in motion we all began to chat as if we were intimate acquaintances.
“The unknown was a person of charming manners and excellent conversational power. Although somewhat effeminate, he had an air of distinction. He had that dull tinge characteristic of themeridionauxwho drink only water.
“He was about twenty-four years of age; he wore a moustache of fine texture and ebon blackness; and his raven hair contrasted singularly with the whiteness of a neck whose shape would have excited the envy of a woman. He was, in short, one of the handsomest of Italians.
“The carriage rolled on for some ten minutes, and was already travelling obscure streets, which to me were wholly unknown.
“While it is true that I had no fear, I ought to say that the singular circumstances of this nocturnal journey awakened an emotion which bordered on inquietude, and which induced me to break out suddenly—
“‘My dear friend, I accepted your proposition with my eyes closed. Now, after all this mystery, will you tell me where you are conducting me?’
“‘Your pardon,’ said the count in a serious tone. ‘I have promised to enable you to assist at a spectacle such as you have never seen, and never will again in all your life; but where this spectacle will take place, I am not permitted to say. I count upon your discretion and rely upon your abstaining from all questions. I have promised you a sensation, and you shall see it; and I guarantee to you that it will be satisfactory as a sensation, for it will be most terrible and most bloody.’
“‘Bloody,’ repeated I, surprised at this confidence.
“‘Yes, bloody and terrifying beyond description. There is yet time. Do you wish to renounce this excursion? If you do not have the courage, I will accompany you to——’
“‘My friend, I have faith in your loyalty; and I know you will do nothing unworty the character of a brave gentleman.’
“‘Fear nothing,’ said the young Italian, in excellent English, ‘only wait till in your own country before you speak.’
“A moment after, our carriage halted. We found ourselves in a small square, dimly lighted, a species ofcarrefour, which gave access to four streets.
“We descended and waited till the carriage had driven away and the noise of its wheels was lost in the deserted streets. It was nine o’clock.
“‘Follow us,’ whispered the count, ‘and do not utter a single word.’
“We proceeded a dozen steps along one of the streets which led into the place, and then the count stopped before a door, and said, in a low voice—
“‘It is here.’
“He pushed gently against the door, which yielded easily; and then we entered a long dark corridor, at the extremity of which there shone a faint light through the curtains of a second door, which seemed to open into some lighted apartment.
“We had walked about half the length of the hall, when the second door opened and there came out a man, who closed it behind him with great care. During the instant that the door was open we heard a murmur of voices, which convinced us that the room beyond was occupied by a numerous company.
“At a sign from the count we all three halted. The man came softly forward until he reached the count, who stood in advance, and whispered some words in his ear, which we could not hear. The next moment he turned to the right and led us to a stairway which seemed cut in the wall, and which, by the faint light, we saw to be filthy beyond description. We followed our guide on tiptoe and in absolute silence.
“We ascended several steps, and found ourselves in front of a door. Our guide took us by the hand, and we groped our way silently into the darkness of what I imagined to be a hall of some kind. The darkness was impenetrable. We were led a short distance, and then all three of us were quietly forced into a species of bruel, orcanapé—and then we waited.
“What was going to happen, and what astounding thing was I about to witness? Despite my confidence in the count, I could not, in view of our marches and countermarches in the darkness, and all so silently, restrain somewhat of an apprehension.
“Gradually there began to reach us, from in front and below us, the murmur of voices, and which we could not distinguish when we first entered the apartment.
“From such indications as I could possess myself of, I concluded that we occupied a position with reference to those below us, like that of spectators in a gallery to the actors on the stage. These were mere suppositions, however, for the darkness was so intense that I had no means of verifying their justness.
“None of us spoke.
“Suddenly a great noise broke out in the place in front of us. There were cries of joy and enthusiasm; there was a general stamping of feet, and, at the same instant, directly in front of us, a curtain was drawn aside as if by magic.
“I was correct in my surmise that we were in a sort of gallery. We were so placed that, without being seen, or our existence suspected, we could command a complete view of the large room below us, and in which some twenty people were conversing with each other, and throwing themselves about with a demoniacal violence.
“The count whispered in my ear: ‘Now we can speak, but we must not permit ourselves to be overheard.’
“‘And now,’ said I, ‘will you explain the mystery of seeing a score of Italians in a state of intoxication?’
The count laughed slightly, and for an answer he said—
“‘Look attentively.’
As for the young Italian, he revealed his presence only by long-drawn sighs.
“I could now examine at my leisure what passed below us in the room, which was lighted by four miserable lamps, and which gave out more odour than light. Some twenty persons were present.
“They were ordinary men with healthy colour, and whose glances were full of pride and energy. Some of them were advanced in years and were gray; others were mere boys, but all appeared equally audacious and daring.
“At the moment I had taken in these particulars, one of them had mounted a bench and commenced to speak; the rest listened with great attention, and from their attitude, I could infer that the proposition of the orator was received with favour.
“All at once, it occurred to me that these men were not intoxicated. There may have been one or two whose brains were somewhat affected by drink; but none had that brutal and contemptible drunkenness which one sometimes sees among our workmen in the large cities. One would imagine them to be conspirators or bandits, but never drunkards.”
“I always understood that the Italians were not addicted to habits of intemperance,” observed young Knoulton.
“Neither are they—at any rate as far as my experience of them is concerned,” returned Murdock.
“If the truth must be spoken I have every reason for believing that the majority, if not all of those present, were as sober as you and I are now.”
“Well, we haven’t had anything to intoxicate us—that is quite certain,” said the young man, with a smile.
The pirate continued—
“‘What is going to happen?’ I asked the count in a low voice.
“‘You see all those men,’ said the count, in a voice which vibrated with emotion; ‘they are mostly young men; in every case, they are robust. Well, my good friend, all these young men whom you see are about to poignard each other—to attempt to kill each other with an unimaginable ferocity.’
“I repressed an exclamation.
“‘What is it you tell me? Why, these men have the appearance of being intimate friends.’
“‘They are; and it is necessary that they should be, and that they should possess a great reciprocity of esteem in order to carry out the terrible combat whose conditions they are even now arranging.’
“I heard this with stupefaction. I tried to believe myself the victim of a joke on the part of my friend; but the tone of his voice left me no room to doubt.
“Besides, the precautions we had taken to assist at the combat of the gladiators; the semi-revelations and mysterious occurrences of the evening did not permit me to suppose that my friend told me anything but the exact truth.
“‘And will this act of savagery take place under my eyes?’
“‘Let me, at first,’ said my friend, ‘explain to you this singular duel, for it is a duel sustained without enmity, without heat, without anger, for the simple purpose of proving to each other their surpassing courage, and their contempt for existence. This savage recreation, which owes its origin to barbarous ages, is called acacciatafrom the wordcaccia(hunting). From time to time, when security from the police is certain, a group of persons such as these meet in some secluded locality for the purpose of holding acaccia, whose end is solely to test their courage. But hold,’ he added, ‘that tall man whom you see at the extremity of the hall is about to announce the proposal to fight.’
“At the same moment I heard, in the obscurity, our young companion rubbing his hands with great satisfaction.
“Although a good deal disturbed at what I had heard, I did not lose a motion of the men.
“Suddenly there arose a great tumult in the hall.
“The man whom the count had indicated by his great stature, pronounced a sort of speech; but he spoke with so much heat and volubility that it was impossible for me to understand a single thing except the wordcacciata.
“When he finished speaking, each man put his hand in his pocket and drew out an enormous knife, whose blade shone and sparkled with a sinister brilliancy.
“‘My God,’ said I, ‘are they going to cut each other’s throats under our very eyes?’
“‘Calm yourself,’ said the count, seizing my hands with force. ‘Reassure yourself, you will see nothing—what is now passing is the worst. Come, be courageous, and do not lose sight of a single movement.’
“The recommendation to calm myself was wholly useless.
“Despite myself I was seized by an undefinable nausea. The belief that I was about to see the room below running with human gore gave me a tremour of horror, and held me spellbound in a condition of horrible anticipation.
“But such is the deformity of the human heart that, notwithstanding I experienced a most frightful repulsion, my curiosity was powerfully interested; and my fear of suffering was more than overpowered by my desire not to lose a feature of the frightful scene.
“At once, and as if obedient to a signal, these twenty individuals commenced to disrobe themselves. But before commencing, and seemingly as a precaution, each placed his knife by his side and within reach. It was a formidable weapon whose variety of form indicated the character of the individuals.
“With supreme calmness, and an assurance that was terrifying, they divested themselves of everything save their pantaloons, which was held up by waist belts. In almost the flash of an eye, they were stripped to the waist and ready for the combat.
“It was, I assure you, a moving and cruel spectacle to see all these robust torsos, with their white or bronze colouring, thus becoming revealed in the feeble, tremulous light of the hall.
“Despite the impending horror of a savage butchery I could not but admire the energetic heads, the fierce glances, and the rude muscularity of the arms now ready to deal out death.
“When they cleared away the tables so as to leave the arena free, all these athletic forms assumed attitudes whose delineation would have made the fortune of a painter of the human form.
“‘Now,’ said the count, ‘the fight is going to commence. The tall man whom you see in the centre of the group is recalling to them the conditions of the sanguinary combat. These conditions are—
“‘The lights must be extinguished, so that he who is struck may not know who has given the blow—which is the only means of avoiding repentance on the one hand and hatred on the other.
“‘It is not permitted to give a blow below the belt.
“‘Whatever may be the severity of the wound which one receives he can neither utter a complaint nor a groan, as the sound of his voice would establish his identity.
“‘One who is down cannot be struck. When one is wounded, or wishes to discontinue his participation in the combat, he extends himself at length and is secure from molestation.
“‘But so long as there remain two of them erect, who meet each other in the darkness, they strike pitilessly at each other’s breasts, and this, despite the fact that they may be friends, relatives, or even brothers.’
“And now, the last table and stool being removed, each individual placed himself, knife in hand, with his face to the wall.
“There remained only the extinguishing of the light before the carnage should commence.
“I followed with a horrible curiosity each phase of the savage tragedy which was about to conclude in the darkness, not more than a dozen feet from where I sat. During those latter preliminaries, I felt such a lively emotion of horror that I could scarcely refrain from uttering a cry in order to reveal our presence, and put an end to the infamous proceedings.
“Had only my personal safety been involved, I should not have hesitated, but my companions were present, and they had not ceased to repeat that the smallest suspicion of our presence would compromise all of us. I was obliged, therefore, to await the termination in silence.
“Soon the tallsacrophantextinguished one of the four lamps. Then the second was deliberately put out, and then the third. As I saw him approach the fourth and last one, my heart ceased to beat, and I involuntarily closed my eyes.
“When I opened them it was night, silence, the profound peace of the tomb, and I seemed to be under the influence of a dream.
“At a movement which I made on my seat, and which was more noisy than prudence would permit, the count seized me vigorously by the arms, and his significant pressure seemed to say, silence! At the same moment we heard a certain agitation at our feet; the combatants putting themselves into position for the attack.
“From the depth of the obscurity we could at first hear only what seemed like repressed breathing, and which was scarcely perceptible.
“Doubtless, each was upon the defensive, holding his breath, and acting with great circumspection which would not permit more active movements. But of all this we could see nothing—absolutely nothing; we could only guess at what was passing.
“However, each moment the agitation augmented in the darkness in which swarmed these terrible gladiators.
“The restrained chests began to dilate, and the vague and scarcely perceptible tumult of the first moments began to take a more pronounced form. It seemed to us that we could distinguish, at the least indication, the movements of the combatants.
“We imagined we could see them bounding from one end of the hall to the other, seeking to strike an adversary during the furiousélanof their passage.
“Little by little, as the blood of the combatants became frenzied, the primitive incoherence of the battle was accentuated by a horrible murmuring. The impact of rushing bodies began to be distinguishable. The clear sound of the knife striking the flesh could be heard; and then falls and hoarse rattles.
“A little later, when the infernal tumult had swollen to its height, there were heard savage vociferations, sounds of suffocation, dull cries, and strange ejaculations uttered in no language and in no recognisable accent, but none the less horrible and lacerating.
“This fearful occurrence, rendered still more frightful by the profound darkness, lasted some twenty minutes.
“At the end of this time, somebody cried, in Italian—
“‘To the floor, everybody!’ and in a moment silence reigned, as if by enchantment.
“The same stalwart devil who had extinguished the lamps, now relighted them, one by one. The scene which came slowly into view from the darkness was horrible in the extreme.
“Those who had not been struck during the melée immediately began to raise those who were extended in a sea of blood, their chests gashed and their arms slashed by deep blows from the knife.
“A sickening odour filled the already vitiated atmosphere. The combatants pattered across the bloody floor; some crowded about the wounded, others calmly wiped their bloody knives upon their handkerchiefs. Two or three who were wounded, but who had not fallen, with bent necks, examined with cold disdain the wounds they had received.
“The spectacle was at once sinister and yet full of courage, hideous and attractive, abject and full of grandeur. I wished to fly, and yet, when the moment of departure came, it was necessary to tear me away.
“And this is what is known as Cacciata.”
“What a horrible scene!” exclaimed Knoulton. “One would hardly suppose it possible that such atrocities could be committed in a civilised country.”
“I was, as I have already told you, young at the time, but it made so deep an impression on me that I shall never forget it for the remainder of my life.”
“And your friend the count?”
“Oh, he died a violent death. He was stabbed in the street by a hired bravo some years after the tragic affair he had taken me to. He was a bad lot, had sold his best friends, and got himself into some scrape, the rights of which I never knew, but it ended in his death. I have seen a good many horrible sights since then, have been cast adrift on the ocean, and only saved by what one might term almost a miracle, and have been driven into this cursed port at last. Oh, how I sigh to be again on the blue water! You cannot understand the misery of my situation—’cause why? You see you have been brought up differently to what I was, and don’t and can’t feel the punishment of being cooped up under hatches for life. Death is happiness in comparison with it—perfect happiness.”
“You must hold up, and not give way to desponding thoughts. If you do—”
“Well, I know what you would say—I shall go to Davy Jones’s locker. Yes, that’s what you’d say. You are right enough, my lad. Feeling as I do now, I shan’t much care if I do.”
Young Knoulton looked at the clock, and saw that it was time his patient had his medicine. Murdock swallowed the contents of the glass which the other presented to him, and shortly after this he sank into a fitful slumber.