"Maladetto!" growled the Italian lord, "O, povero voi, Signor Marinero!"
"Avast, old Gingerbread! I speak none of your foreign lingos," replied the boatswain.
Flushed with rage and disappointment, the barone struggled furiously with his strong antagonist, who held him at arms' length, in doubt whether to cleave him down or let him go; till Zaccheo, the Greek, approached, and, ere I could interfere, ended the matter, by driving his couteau-de-chasse through the heart of Guelfo, who expired without a groan.
By daybreak, the fighting was over. A poor little midshipman and several seamen were killed; a hundred of our mad assailants lay dead in the quadrangle, and as many more round the terrace. In the villa, half its garrison lay killed or wounded around the windows, from which the flames and smoke rolled forth in mighty volumes; many were roasted or consumed before we could remove them: poor old Gismondo with the rest. Hanfield ordered his men to save the villa from further destruction; but the flames had gathered such force, that for a time every effort seemed fruitless. Assisted by three boats' crews from the flag-ship, they pulled down a part of the mansion, and turned the water of the jets d'eau on the rest, to prevent the fire (which was confined to one wing) from spreading to the main building. After an hour of toil and danger, during which I worked away in my shirt-sleeves until I was as black as a charcoal-burner, the flames were suppressed: but how changed was the aspect of the once splendid villa!
One portion of the building was roofless and ruined: its lofty casements shattered, its corbelled balconies, tall pillars, and rich Corinthian entablatures, scorched by fire, and blackened by smoke; the ravaged gardens and terraces were strewn with corpses, the halls, saloons, and corridors, encumbered with the same ghastly objects, splashed with blood, and filled with confusion and destruction; pier-glasses, vases, and statues, were dashed to pieces, hangings and pictures rent and torn. The quiet library and elegant boudoir rang with the cries of the wounded, or the reckless merriment of the sailors, who caroused on the richest wines. But Santugo looked around him with the most perfect sang froid.
Twenty prisoners we had captured were sent over to Palermo, where they expiated their revolt in the horrible dungeons of the Damusi,—the most frightful perhaps in the world, where their bones are probably lying at this hour.
CHAPTER VII.
THE NUPTIALS.
When the fight was over, the fire extinguished, and the dead all interred, I repaired to the grotto, where the ladies and their attendants were shivering with terror and the cold air of the sea, which every instant threw a shower of sparkling spray into the damp vaults. A statue to St. Hugh, before which three dim tapers were always burning, gave a picturesque aspect to the natural grotto; and a rill of limpid water, at which the saint had quenched his thirst, gurgled from the rocks into a rich font of white marble. Around this little shrine the females were clustered; and a cry burst from them when I approached in my unseemly garb, spotted with blood, blackened by powder, smoke, and toil, and plastered over with clay, as if I had been dipped in the mud-baths of Abano.
The carriage was brought; the horses of the ladies were saddled, and they left the half ruined villa with a strong escort, to take up a temporary residence at the castle of Angistola, the property of the Duke of Bagnara, near Pizzo. After seeing the remains of the Calabrian company embarked for Messina in our gun-boats, I, accompanied by Santugo, followed the ladies at full gallop; leaving the old chasseur to act as commandant at the villa. I despatched a mounted servant to Scylla, for some of my baggage; a suit of uniform especially, as my harness was quite ridiculous in the gay salons of the duchess.