Among the Brigands

by James De Mille

"I will keep you as a prisoner up there in my house till I communicate with your friends about your ransom, and find out how much I can get for you."

After this the brigand pulled the boat farther up on the beach, and then, beckoning to David to follow, he strode off towards the house.

Slowly and sadly poor David followed; and hope, which had for a moment revived, began to die out within him. He had been deceived by the demeanor of the brigand, during his own description of his woes and wandering, and had mistaken for compassion what was only ordinary attention. The manner of the brigand, when he had began to gesticulate, changed hope to fear, and fear to despair. The merciless allusion to David's captive state; the rude appropriation of him as a prisoner by the grasp of his head; the ferocious threat with the gun; and, finally, the display of the purse, and the coarse reference to money and ransom, all convinced David that he had to do with one who was a stranger to compassion—a ferocious and ruthless nature, without pity, and without remorse. And now, as his captor led the way to the house, he felt that he was being conveyed to a prison, from which his escape was, indeed, uncertain; for, though he knew that Uncle Moses would pay any ransom, yet he could not know whether the brigand would ever be able to communicate with him or not. On the whole, it was the darkest hour of his life; and the stride of the ruffian in front of him seemed like the march of inevitable Fate!

They climbed up the bank, and then went through the grove. Emerging into the field, they walked on towards the house. As they drew nearer, David saw signs that were not altogether in keeping with the tough exterior of his enemy, for in front of the cottage there were flowers in bloom, which appeared to be cultivated by some careful hand; but a moment's thought showed David that this might be the work of the robber's wife. The prospect of meeting with a woman afforded hope; for whatever the husband might be, the wife might be gentle, and pitiful, and womanly; and David drew hope from the flowers; for the one that would have tastes like these might not be altogether hard and implacable; and as the giants and ogres of the fairy books had wives who generally were willing to help the victims of their husbands, so here, in the wife of this Italian ogre, David hoped to find one who might be as merciful as those of fairy lore.

At length they reached the house, and the brigand, after waiting for a moment for his prisoner to come up, entered the door. David followed, and found himself inside.

The door opened immediately into a room. It was large and low. The floor was paved with red tiles, and the walls were of wood, varnished. Around the walls hung numerous pictures without frames. In different places there were confused heaps of clothing and drapery. The clothing was rich, though fantastic. In one corner was a frame with armor suspended; while over this, on the wall, he saw arms of different kinds—pistols, carbines, daggers, and blunderbusses. The fashion of all these was somewhat antique, and there was a richness in their ornaments which even David noticed, in spite of his trouble and anxiety. The furniture about the room was old-fashioned, formed of massive mahogany, carved most elaborately, and was of so many different styles that the pieces seemed thrown together at random. A Glastonbury chair stood beside an Elizabethan sofa; a modern Davenport, a Louis Quatorze side-board, and a classic tripod, stood in a row. Some Chinese tables were in one corner. In the centre of the room was a table of massive construction, with richly carved legs, that seemed as old as the middle ages; while beside it was an American rocking-chair, in which lay a guitar. The whole scene struck David as being perfectly in keeping with his captor; for this interior looked like some pictures which he had seen of robber holds, where the accumulated plunder of years is heaped indiscriminately together, and reminded him vividly of the descriptions which he had read of the abodes of pirates or brigands, in the novels of Cooper, in Francisco, the Pirate of the Pacific, Lafitte, the Pirate of the Gulf, and Rinaldo Rinaldini.

CHAPTER XIV.

On the Way to Sorrento again.—A mournful Ride.—A despairing
Search.—A fearful Discovery.—The old Virago again.—In a
Trap.—Sorrento aroused.—Besieged.—All lost.—A raging
Crowd.—The howling Hag.—Hurried Consultation.—The last forlorn
Hope.—Disguise, Flight, and Concealment.

So, as I have said, the carriage rolled out from Castellamare, along the road to Sorrento, freighted with its anxious load. All were silent. Uncle Moses was weighed down by an anxiety that was too deep for words, and sat bent forward with his head buried in his hands. The boys respected his feelings too much to say anything, and consequently they, too, sat in silence. They were far from feeling anything like despair, however, on David's account. Before they started, Bob had assured them that "Dave" was "all right," and would turn up before long somewhere—an assurance which Frank and Clive accepted as a perfectly sound and reliable statement; and so, if they were silent, it was not so much the silence of care or sadness, as of sympathy with Uncle Moses.

As they went along they met people from time to time, some wayfarers, some in carriages, some in wagons, and some on horseback. In accordance with the earnest request of Uncle Moses, the driver questioned all these without exception, and asked the same question of all.