The Pirate of the Mediterranean. W.h.g. Kingston

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СКАЧАТЬ Maltese boatmen; “you are debating in your mind whether you will inform the authorities that a suspicious character has landed on the island, and get a reward from them, or whether you will take the chance of pocketing what my generosity may induce me to bestow. Now, mark me, my honest friend. In the first place, I could get you hung for a little transaction, of which you know.”

      The boatman started, and looked round with a suspicious glance.

      “Que diavolo, who can this be?” he muttered.

      “In the second, remember the English do not detain a man on bare suspicions, and but shabbily reward an informer. On the other hand, twenty colonati are yours, if you do my bidding. I do not want an answer – you are not a fool. Now row on shore as fast as you can.”

      The Greek was a judge of character; and he seemed not to be altogether unacquainted with Manuel, the boatman. The boat ran into the public landing-place, and he stepped on shore with an independent and fearless air, where he mingled among the busy and motley throng who crowded the quay. The boatman, Manuel, sat in his boat a little distance from the shore, watching him, and ready, apparently, to obey his orders when he should be required.

      The Greek proceeded onward through the lower parts of the town, eyeing those he passed with a quick keen glance, which seemed to read their very thoughts. People were too much accustomed to see the varied costumes of the East to regard him with unusual curiosity, or to incommode him in his progress by stopping to stare at him; at the same time that many remarked him as he slowly sauntered on and wondered whence he had come. He seemed to have nothing more to do than to amuse himself by viewing the city, though he had certainly not selected the most interesting or cleanest quarter. He apparently was a stranger to the place, by the way in which he hesitated at each crossing, which turning he should take, till he had carefully deciphered the name on the wall. Now he stopped to look into a shop, then to gaze up at the windows of a house as if he expected to see some one there, and then to throw a copper to some importunate beggar. He walked with an air of so much independence and nonchalance, indeed, at times, almost of haughtiness, that it was difficult to suppose he had the slightest apprehension of danger. Not a person, however, who, passed him, escaped his scrutiny; and even when he appeared to stop carelessly, or for the sake of considering the way he was to take, he cast a hurried glance behind him to satisfy himself that no one was acting the spy on his movements. He had evidently seen enough to convince him that the vessel, in which he had come, was in bad odour, and he naturally concluded that her passengers would be narrowly watched. Of the crowds who passed, not a human being seemed to know him, and if he was in reality particularly observed, it was done so cleverly and so cautiously, that with all his ingenuity, he failed to discover whether such was the case or not. He had already traversed a number of streets – ascending several flights of steps and descending others – when, at the corner of a narrow lane, his eye fell on a squalid-looking beggar who was lustily calling on the passers-by, in the name of all the saints, to preserve him from starvation. A broad-brimmed hat with a crown similar to those worn by Italian bandits, but sadly battered and brown with age and dirt, was worn slouchingly on his head, so as almost to hide his features, which were further concealed by a handkerchief tied under his chin, and a black patch over one of his eyes. A tattered cloak, the cast-off finery of a dandy of the palmy days of the old Knights of Malta, covered his shoulders, as did, in part, his legs, a pair of blue cloth trousers, through which his knees obtruded, and which were fringed with torn stripes at the feet. Such of his features as were visible were as ill-favoured as well could be. His voice, too, had a peculiarly disagreeable tone, as in the lingua Franca of the Maltese mendicants he begged for alms.

      This interesting personage was supporting himself carelessly on a pair of crutches, while he rested on one foot, and stretched forth the palm of his right hand to grasp whatever might be put into it. The Greek stopped and put his hand into his pocket to draw out a piece of money, while he did so narrowly eyeing the beggar. The man’s voice changed instantly that he saw the stranger looking at him; from a half whining yet impudent tone, it began to sink and tremble with alarm, and finally he became perfectly mute and forgetful of his calling.

      “I thought you would know me,” said the Greek. “And you must remember I never forget those I have once seen either as friends or foes.”

      “No, signor, I perceive you do not,” replied the beggar, trembling with alarm. “Have mercy on me.”

      “That depends upon yourself,” said the stranger. “At present, you deserve no mercy at my hands; but I will now give you an opportunity of serving me; and if you do so faithfully, I will overlook the past.”

      “You are very generous, signor – you always were,” exclaimed the beggar, trying to fall down and embrace his knees, which the Greek prevented. “I will go to any part of the world. I will go through fire and water to serve you.”

      “You have not to go far to perform my directions; but I want faithfulness in the discharge of the duty I shall impose on you,” said the Greek, sternly. “And, mark me, Giacomo – if you play me false, as you have done others, I will find you out, and finish your worthless life with as little compunction as I would that of a rabid dog.”

      “Si, signor capitan, I very well know that you are not a man to be trifled with,” answered the beggar, bowing his head.

      “Tell me what you want, and by the Holy Virgin and all the saints in heaven I will perform the work faithfully.”

      “Your oath is superfluous, as you would break it for a copper-piece, so don’t insult me with it,” replied the Greek, scornfully. “But, listen: there is a certain Jew – Aaron Bannech by name – his office – his den – the place where he cheats, and robs, and lies, is beneath the Albergo – in the Strada. Do you hear?”

      “Si, signor, si, – I know the place – I know the man,” said the beggar, hastily.

      “You know him; it is well that you should – you are an admirable pair. He would sell his soul for a dollar, and would then try to cheat the devil out of it. You are a meaner knave. Half that sum would buy you. You both are useful to me, though. Hasten to him, and tell him that I am here. Say that he must clear out his den of visitors, clerks, or other prying knaves, and that I will be with him in half an hour. When you have done this, go down to the port, and learn what vessels are about to sail, shortly, for the eastward, with all particulars about them – their cargoes – armed force – and number of men – also what ships are expected to arrive shortly from the same quarter. Having gleaned this information, which you well know how to do, come up with it to the residence of the Jew. Listen, also, if anything is said about the Speronara Volante, from Syracuse, by which I arrived. Alessandro is her master – or, if any remarks are made respecting me. I am, probably, unnoticed; but it is as well to be cautious.”

      “I will strictly obey your directions, signor,” said the beggar. “Have you further orders?”

      “No – you may go. I have been talking to you too long already, and may have been observed.”

      “Rest assured of my fidelity,” said the beggar, hobbling off up the street on his crutches, at a far more rapid rate than he was generally wont to move.

      No sooner, however, had he got out of sight of the Greek, than he slackened his pace.

      “Now, I wonder what I should get by denouncing him to the authorities,” he muttered to himself. “They are stingy in rewarding informers though, and he, probably, will pay better; besides, as he says, he may get me hung by a word; and if I get him into trouble, some of his friends are certain to avenge him. After all, too, he would probably make his story good, and I should not be believed. You can never catch those Greeks asleep; their wit is so keen, and they twist, and turn, and double in such a manner, that if they get into a scrape, they are certain of working their way out of it. No, it won’t do. I must СКАЧАТЬ