The Wing-and-Wing; Or, Le Feu-Follet

by James Fenimore Cooper

"You seem to have found something to look at besides the Minerva, Signor Podestà," observed Griffin, in an undertone. "I hope it is not Venus."

"Cospetto!" grunted Vito Viti, nudging his neighbor, the vice-governatore, and nodding toward the other boat; "if that be not little Ghita, who came into our island like a comet and went out of it--to what shall I liken her sudden and extraordinary disappearance, Signor Andrea?--"

"To that of le Feu-Follet, or ze Ving-y-Ving," put in Griffin, who, now he had got the two functionaries fairly afloat, spared none of the jokes that come so easy and natural to a man-of-war's man. "She went out, too, in an 'extraordinary disappearance,' and perhaps the lady and the lugger went out together."

Vito Viti muttered an answer; for by this time he had discovered that he was a very different personage on board the Proserpine from what the other had appeared to consider him while in his native island. He might have expressed himself aloud, indeed; but at that instant a column of smoke glanced out of the bow port of the Minerva--a yellow flag was shown aloft--and then came the report of the signal gun.

It has been said that vessels of war of four different nations were at that time lying in the Bay of Naples. Nelson had come in but a short time previously, with seventeen ships of the line; and he found several more of his countrymen lying there. This large force had been assembled to repel an expected attack on the island of Minorca; and it was still kept together in an uncertainty of the future movements of the enemy. A Russian force had come out of the Black Sea, to act against the French, bringing with it a squadron of the Grand Signor; thus presenting to the world the singular spectacle of the followers of Luther, devotees of the Greek church, and disciples of Mahomet, uniting in defence of "our rights, our firesides, and our altars!" To these vessels must be added a small squadron of ships of the country; making a mixed force of four different ensigns that was to witness the melancholy scene we are about to relate.

The yellow flag and the signal gun brought everything in the shape of duty to a standstill in all the fleets. The hoarse commands ceased--the boatswains and their mates laid aside their calls, and the echoing midshipmen no longer found orders to repeat. The seamen gathered to the sides of their respective vessels--every part glistened with expectant eyes--the booms resembled clusters of bees suspended from the boughs of a forest; and the knight-heads, taffrails, gangways, and stretchers of the rigging were garnished with those whose bright buttons, glazed hats, epaulets, and dark-blue dresses denoted to belong to the privileged classes of a ship. Notwithstanding all this curiosity, nothing like the feeling which is apt to be manifested at an exhibition of merited punishment was visible in a single countenance. An expression resembling a sombre gloom appeared to have settled on all those grim warriors of the deep; English, Russian, Neapolitan, or Turk, apparently reserving all his sympathies for the sufferer, rather than for the majesty of justice. Still, no murmur arose--no sign of resistance was made--no look of remonstrance given. The unseen mantle of authority covered all; and these masses of discontented men submitted as we bow to what is believed to be the fiat of fate. The deep-seated and unresisting habit of discipline suppressed complaint, but there was a general conviction that some act was about to be committed that it were better for humanity and justice should not be done; or, if done at all, that it needed more of form, greater deliberation and a fairer trial, to be so done as to obtain the commendation of men. The Turks alone showed apathy; though all showed submission. These subjects of destiny looked on coldly, though even among them a low rumor had passed that a malign influence prevailed in the fleet; and that a great and proud spirit had got to be mastered by the passion that so often deprives heroes of their self-command and independence.

Ghita ceased her prayers, as the report of the gun broke rudely on her ears, and with streaming eyes she even dared to look toward the frigate. Raoul and all the rest bent their gaze in the same direction. The sailors, among them, saw the rope at the fore-yard-arm move, and then heads rose slowly above the hammock-cloths; when the prisoner and his attendant priest were visible even to their feet. The unfortunate Caraccioli, as has been said, had nearly numbered his threescore and ten years, in the regular course of nature; and his bare head now showed the traces of time. He wore no coat; and his arms were bound behind his back, at the elbows, leaving just motion enough to the hands to aid him in the slighter offices about his own person. His neck was bare, and the fatal cord was tightened sufficiently around it to prevent accidents, constantly admonishing its victim of its revolting office.

A low murmur arose among the people in the boats as this spectacle presented itself to their eyes; and many bowed their faces in prayer. The condemned man caught a ray of consolation from this expression of sympathy; and he looked around him an instant, with something like a return of those feelings of the world which it had been his effort and his desire totally to eradicate since he had taken, leave of Ghita, and learned that his last request--that of changing his mode of punishment--had been denied. That was a fearful moment for one like Don Francesco Caraccioli, who had passed a long life in the midst of the scene that surrounded him--illustrious by birth, affluent, honored for his services, and accustomed to respect and deference. Never had the glorious panorama of the bay appeared more lovely than it did at that instant, when he was about to quit it for ever, by a violent and disgraceful death. From the purple mountains--the cerulean void above him--the blue waters over which he seemed already to be suspended--and the basking shores, rich in their towns, villas, and vines, his eye turned toward the world of ships, each alive with its masses of living men. A glance of melancholy reproach was cast upon the little flag that was just waving at the mizzen-masthead of the Foudroyant; and then it fell on the carpet of faces beneath, that seemed fairly to change the surface of the smooth sea into an arena of human countenances. His look was steady, though his soul was in a tumult. Ghita was recognized by her companion and by her dress. He moved toward the edge of his narrow scaffolding, endeavored to stretch forth his arms, and blessed her again aloud. The poor girl dropped on her knees in the bottom of the boat, bowed her head, and in that humble attitude did she remain until all was over; not daring once to look upward again.

"Son," said the priest, "this is a moment when the earth and its feelings must be forgotten."

"I know it, father," answered the old man, his voice trembling with emotion, for his sensations were too powerful, too sublime, even, for the degrading passion of fear--"but never before did this fair piece of the creation seem so lovely in my eyes as now, when I am about to quit it for the last time."