Part 7 (2/2)
”Oh, certainly! As the signor pleases--ma--” And he ended with another expressive shrug and bow.
I looked at him fixedly. ”What do you mean?” I asked with some sternness.
With that birdlike lightness and swiftness which were part of his manner, the Sicilian skipper bent forward and laid a brown finger on my wrist.
”Scusa, vi prego! But the hands are not those of a fisher of coral.”
I glanced down at them. True enough, their smoothness and pliant shape betrayed my disguise--the gay little captain was sharp-witted enough to note the contrast between them and the rough garb I wore, though no one else with whom I had come in contact had been as keen of observation as he. At first I was slightly embarra.s.sed by his remark--but after a moment's pause I met his gaze frankly, and lighting my cigarette I said, carelessly:
”Ebbene! And what then, my friend?”
He made a deprecatory gesture with his hands.
”Nay, nay, nothing--but only this. The signor must understand he is perfectly safe with me. My tongue is discreet--I talk of things only that concern myself. The signor has good reasons for what he does--of that I am sure. He has suffered; it is enough to look in his face to see that. Ah, Dio if there are so many sorrows in life; there is love,”
he enumerated rapidly on his fingers--”there is revenge--there are quarrels--there is loss of money; any of these will drive a man from place to place at all hours and in all weathers. Yes; it is so, indeed--I know it! The signor has trusted himself in my boat--I desire to a.s.sure him of my best services.”
And he raised his red cap with so charming a candor that in my lonely and morose condition I was touched to the heart. Silently I extended my hand--he caught it with an air in which respect, sympathy, and entire friendliness were mingled. And yet he overcharged me for my pa.s.sage, you exclaim! Ay--but he would not have made me the object of impertinent curiosity for twenty times the money! You cannot understand the existence of such conflicting elements in the Italian character?
No--I dare say not. The tendency of the calculating northerner under the same circ.u.mstances would have been to make as much out of me as possible by means of various small and contemptible items, and then to go with broadly honest countenance to the nearest police-station and describe my suspicious appearance and manner, thus exposing me to fresh expense besides personal annoyance. With the rare tact that distinguishes the southern races the captain changed the conversation by a reference to the tobacco we were both enjoying.
”It is good, is it not?” he asked.
”Excellent!” I answered, as indeed it was.
His white teeth glittered in a smile of amus.e.m.e.nt.
”It should be of the finest quality--for it is a present from one who will smoke nothing but the choice brands. Ah, Dio! what a fine gentleman spoiled is Carmelo Neri!”
I could not repress a slight start of surprise. What caprice of Fate a.s.sociated me with this famous brigand? I was actually smoking his tobacco, and I owed all my present wealth to his stolen treasures secreted in my family vault!
”You know the man, then?” I inquired with some curiosity.
”Know him? As well as I know myself. Let me see, it is two months--yes--two months to-day since he was with me on board this very vessel. It happened in this way--I was at Gaeta--he came to me and told me the gendarmes were after him. He offered me more gold than I ever had in my life to take him to Termini, from whence he could get to one of his hiding-places in the Montemaggiore. He brought Teresa with him; he found me alone on the brig, my men had gone ash.o.r.e. He said, 'Take us to Termini and I will give you so much; refuse and I will slit your throat.' Ha! ha! ha! That was good. I laughed at him. I put a chair for Teresa on deck, and gave her some big peaches. I said, 'See, my Carmelo! what use is there in threats? You will not kill me, and I shall not betray you. You are a thief, and a bad thief--by all the saints you are--but I dare say you would not be much worse than the hotel-keepers, if you could only keep your hand off your knife.' (For you know, signor, if you once enter a hotel you must pay almost a ransom before you can get out again!) Yes--and I reasoned with Carmelo in this manner: I told him, 'I do not want a large fortune for carrying you and Teresa across to Termini--pay me the just pa.s.sage and we shall part friends, if only for Teresa's sake.' Well, he was surprised. He smiled that dark smile of his, which may mean grat.i.tude or murder. He looked at Teresa. She sprung up from her seat, and let her peaches fall from her lap on the deck. She put her little hands on mine--the tears were in her pretty blue eyes. 'You are a good man,' she said. 'Some woman must love you very much!' Yes--she said that. And she was right.
Our Lady be praised for it!”
And his dark eyes glanced upward with a devout gesture of thanksgiving.
I looked at him with a sort of jealous hunger gnawing at my heart. Here was another self deluded fool--a fond wretch feasting on the unsubstantial food of a pleasant dream--a poor dupe who believed in the truth of woman!
”You are a happy man,” I said with a forced smile; ”you have a guiding star for your life as well as for your boat--a woman that loves you and is faithful? is it so?”
He answered me directly and simply, raising his cap slightly as he did so.
”Yes, signor--my mother.”
I was deeply touched by his naive and unexpected reply--more deeply than I cared to show. A bitter regret stirred in my soul--why, oh, why had my mother died so young! Why had I never known the sacred joy that seemed to vibrate through the frame, and sparkle in the eyes of this common sailor! Why must I be forever alone, with a curse of a woman's lie on my life, weighing me down to the dust and ashes of a desolate despair! Something in my face must have spoken my thoughts, for the captain said, gently:
”The signor has no mother?”
”She died when I was but a child,” I answered, briefly.
The Sicilian puffed lightly at his cigarette in silence--the silence of an evident compa.s.sion. To relieve him of his friendly embarra.s.sment, I said:
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