Chapter Twenty Seven.
Brigand Domestic Life.
For several days Henry Harding was kept confined in his cell, without seeing a face, except that of the brigand who brought him his food—always the same individual.
This man was a morose wretch, and as uncommunicative as if he had been an automaton. Twice a day he would bring in the bowl of pasta—a sort of macaroni porridge boiled in bacon fat, and seasoned with salt and pepper. He would place the vessel upon the floor, take away the empty one that had contained the previous meal, and then leave the captive to himself, without saying a word to him.
The repeated attempts of the young Englishman to bring him to a parley were met either by complete inattention or rude repulse. Seeing this, they were abandoned; and the captive ate his pasta, and drank his cold water in silence.
Only at night was there quiet in his cell. All day long, through the slender-slit window, came noise enough. Just in front of it seemed to be the favourite loitering place of the brigands, where they passed most of their time. This was spent almost exclusively in gambling, except during intervals when quarrelling took the place of playing. Those intervals were not rare. Scarce an hour elapsed without some dispute, ending either in a fight between two individuals, or a general row, in which more than half the band appeared to take part. Then would be heard the voice of the capo, thundering in authoritative tones, as he delivered curses and cudgel blows right and left among the quarrellers.
Once there was a report of a pistol, followed by groans. The young Englishman believed that a summary punishment had been inflicted on some offender: for after the groans there was an interval of solemn stillness, such as might be observed in the presence of death. If such were the dread impression upon the scoundrels it did not last long: for soon after they were heard resuming play, and the cries, “Cinque y cinque o capo,” and “Vinti y vinti croce!” the game being that common among the Italian peasantry called, “Croce o capo” and which differs but little from the English “Heads or tails.”
By standing on tiptoe, the prisoner could see them playing at it. The gaming-table was simply a level spot of turf in front of his cell, and nearly opposite the window. The brigands knelt or squatted in a ring: one held an old hat from which the lining had been torn out. In this were placed a number of coins, odd—usually three. These were first rattled about the hat, and then thrown down upon the turf; the hat, as a dice-box, still covering them. The bets were then made upon capo or croce (head or cross), and the raising of the hat determined who were winners or losers.
It is in this game that the bandits find their chief source of distraction, from a life that would otherwise be unendurable, even to such ruffians as they. Capo o croce, with an occasional quarrel over it; plenty of pasta, confetti, fat mutton, cheeses, roccate, and rosolio; a festa when wine and provisions are plenty; songs usually of the most vulgar kind; now and then a dance, accompanied by some coarse flirting with the half-dozen women who usually keep company with a banda—these, and long hours of listless basking in the sun, compose the joys of the Italian brigand’s domestic life.
When on a foray to the peopled plains, he finds excitement of an altogether different character. The surprise, the capture, the escape from pursuing soldiers, perhaps an occasional skirmish while retreating to his hill fortress—these are the incidents that occur to him on a plundering expedition: and they are sufficiently stirring to keep his spirit from suffering ennui.
This last only steals upon him when the divided plunder, which is generally in the shape of denaro di riscatta (ransom money), has by the inexorable chances of the capo o croce become consolidated in a few hands—the universal result of the game.
Then does the bandit become dissatisfied with listless idleness, and commences to plan new surprises; the sack of some rich villa, or what is much more to his mind, the capture of some galantuomo, or gentleman, by whose ransom his purse may be again replenished, again to be staked upon “Heads or tails.”
Unseen himself, the young Englishman had an excellent opportunity of studying the life of these lawless men.
Between them and their chief there appeared to be but slight distinction. As a general rule the spoils were shared alike, as also the chances of the game; for Corvino could at any time be seen in the ring, along with the rest, staking his piastres on the capo or croce.
His authority was only absolute in the administration of punishment. His kick and cudgel were never disputed; for, if they had been, it was well understood these modes of castigation would be instantly changed for a stab of his stiletto, or a shot from his pistol.
His chieftainship may have been derived from his being the originator of the band, but it was kept up and sustained by his being its bully. A chief of low courage, or less cruelty, would soon have been dispossessed, as not unfrequently happens among the banditi.
One thing caused Henry Harding much wonder, as, standing on tiptoe, he looked out of the little window—the women, the bandite.
In the band there was nearly a score of these ladies. He had at first taken them for boys—beardless members of the gang! There was but little in their dress to distinguish them from the men. They wore the same polka jacket, vest, and pantaloons, only with a greater profusion of ornaments around their necks, and a larger number of rings upon their fingers.
Some of them were absolutely loaded with jewels of all kinds—pearls, topazes, rubies, turquoise-stones, even diamonds sparkling among the rest—the spoils drawn from the delicate fingers of many a rich signorina.
The hair of all was close cropped, like that of the men; while several carried poignards or pistols, so that only by a certain rotundity of form could they be distinguished from their male companions, and not all of them by this. They were not allowed to take part in the gaming, as they never got share of the riscatta. For all that, most of them shared in the perils of every enterprise, accompanying the men on their expeditions.
At home they laid aside the carbine to take up the needle; though they were seldom called upon to wet their fingers in the washing-tub. That is regarded as an occupation beneath the dignity of a bandita; and is left to the wives of those peasants in communication with the band, and who are termed manutangoli, or “helpers.” These are well paid for the labour of the laundry—a clean shirt costing the bandit almost the price of a new one! It was not often that any of Corvino’s band cared to incur the expense; only its damerini or dandies, and they only upon the occasion of a festa.
Most of these observations were made by the English captive, during the first few days of his captivity. He saw many strange scenes through the little window of his cell. He might have seen more, had the window been lower in the wall; but, high up as it was, he was obliged to stand on tiptoe, and this becoming tiresome after a time, he only assumed the irksome attitude when some scene more exciting than common summoned him from his lair of dried fern-leaves.