Two days were spent at Marsala in gaining information as to the state of the country, making arrangements for the march inland, and for the transport of ammunition and spare rifles, and in obtaining stores of provisions sufficient for two or three days. It was fortunate indeed that no Neapolitan troops were stationed in the town, and that they were therefore able to pursue their work without interruption. During the voyage the force had been divided into eight companies, and a ninth was now formed from the Sicilians who joined them. The enthusiasm, that had been necessarily shown rather in action than in shouts by the people of Marsala, who, with Neapolitan ships in the bay, feared that any demonstration might draw upon themselves a terrible retribution, now showed itself openly. The force was accompanied by great numbers of men and women,—even monks joined in the procession,—while from every village parties of fighting men, many of whom had taken part in the late insurrection, joined the party; and when on the day after leaving Marsala they reached Salemi, the force had been augmented by twelve hundred men.
Here Garibaldi, at the request not only of his own men, but of the authorities of the little town and deputies from villages round, assumed the title of dictator, in the name of Victor Emmanuel, King of Italy—thus proclaiming to the world that he had broken altogether with the republican faction.
Except when on duty, there was a thorough comradeship among the Garibaldians. Fully half of the thousand men who had left Genoa with him belonged to the upper and professional classes, and were of the same rank of life as the officers; consequently, when the march was done or the men dismissed from parade, all stiffness was thrown aside, and officers and men mingled in the utmost harmony. All were in the highest spirits. The first well-nigh insuperable difficulties had been overcome; the hindrances thrown in their way by the Italian government had failed to prevent their embarkation; the danger of falling into the hands of the Neapolitan navy had been avoided, and the reception which they met with showed that they had not overestimated the deep feeling of hostility with which the Sicilians regarded their oppressors.
Frank, while on capital terms with all the officers, who were aware how much the expedition owed to his family, and who saw the almost affectionate manner in which Garibaldi treated him, kept principally with his special friends, Maffio, Rubini, and Sarto.
During the voyage, as an occasional change from the one absorbing topic, they asked him many questions about his school-days, and were intensely interested in his description of the life, so wholly different from that at Italian schools and academies.
“We don’t have such good times as you have,” Rubini said; “you seem to have done just what you liked, and your masters do not appear to have interfered with you at all.”
“No, except when in school, they had nothing to do with us.”
“And you went where you liked and did what you liked, just as if you were grown-up men? It is astonishing,” Maffio said; “why, with us we are never out of sight of our masters!”
“We might not quite go where we liked: there were certain limits beyond which we were supposed not to pass; but really, as long as we did not get into any rows, we could pretty well go anywhere within walking distance. You see, the big fellows to a certain extent keep order; but really they only do this in the houses where we live—outside there is no occasion to look after us. Though we are but boys, we are gentlemen, and are expected to act as such. I can’t see why boys want looking after, as if they were criminals, who would break into a house or maltreat an old woman, if they had the chance. It is because we are, as it were, put on our honour and allowed to act and think for ourselves, instead of being marched about and herded like a flock of sheep, that our public school boys, as a rule, do so well afterwards. Our great general, Wellington—at least I think it was he—said, that the battle of Waterloo was fought in the playing fields of Eton. Of course, though he said Eton, he meant of all our public schools. Certainly we are much less likely to come to grief when we leave school and become our own masters, than we should be, if we had been treated as children up to that time.”
“That must be so,” Rubini said thoughtfully. “I wish we had such schools in Italy; perhaps we shall have some day. We have many universities, but no schools at all like yours. Of course, your masters are not priests?”