After the transmission of our prisoners and wounded to the same place, in the boats of the Electra frigate, I gladly retired to my quarters; where the joy and tenderness of Bianca soon made me forget the excitement and weariness of the past night. That evening the mist, which had all day hovered over land and sea, cleared away; when we plainly saw the French working parties on the mountains, forming the road from Seminara, under the protection of strong escorts of cavalry and infantry.
Occasionally a puff of white smoke, curling from the brow of a cliff or from a neighbouring thicket, and an immediate commotion among the enemy, announced a sudden shot from a concealed Calabrian rifle, which had struck one from the roll of the soldiers of the empire. Banditti, and broken parties of the Masse, stuck like burrs in the skirts of the French; and the loss of life occasioned by such desultory warfare was immense.
Bianca shuddered as she surveyed the distant foe and glanced at the castle batteries below us; where, in regular order, stood the long lines of iron twenty-fours and thirty-twos, with all the accompaniments of rammers, sponges, and handspikes; pyramids of balls occupying the spaces between. The glittering bayonets shone on every bastion and angle; while the numerous sentinels, and the hourly rounds of the watchful commanders of guards, denoted an alertness and excitement: a vicinity of warfare equally appalling and novel to her. Whilst we were watching all these preparations, a little drummer beat the warning for the "evening retreat;" the sharp rattle of his drum agitated Bianca so much, that she burst into tears, and, sinking on my shoulder, exclaimed, "Oh, Claude! would to God, we were safe at Palermo! All this is indeed terrible."
"All this!" I reiterated. "Faith! Bianca, I see nothing terrible here. The guards on the alert, the cannon in order, the duty carried on strictly, all bespeak the orderly garrison. But if the mere sight of these things and the clatter of that little boy's drum affright you, think what will be your terrors when yonder hill bristles with brigades of cannon, vomiting death and fire; when every point around us glitters with steel, and even the roar of Dragara is lost in that of the conflict; when men are falling like ripe grapes in a storm, and the shot flying thick as hail, rending battlement and tower. Oh! think of all these dangers, dear one; and, once more, let me entreat you—implore you, to retire to Messina. Consent, Bianca; and I will this moment order a gun to fire for the Electra's boat."
"And you counsel me to leave you so soon?" said she, bending her soft eyes on mine.
"Your gentle mind cannot conceive the horrors of a siege. Scylla I must defend to the last, for such are my orders: but how long can such a little fortress withstand the mighty army of Massena? Our separation, Bianca, can only be for a time——"
"Caro Claude, for a time—but how long? You may be taken prisoner and carried to Don Pepe's dungeons in Dalmatia, and I may never see you again. When I think of poor Benedetto's fate—oh, horror! Say no more, Claude: death only shall separate us."
The entrance of Bob Brown or Annina (they now composed our entire household) put an end to this pathetic interview. Bianca smiled through her tears, and looked so beautiful and happy, and love made me so selfish, that I said no more of her retiring to Sicily.
The evening was sunny and still, the air serene, and the sea calm, except around the rock of Scylla. The green Sicilian shore rose up, clearly and distinctly, from the azure ocean; and the sails of the Amphion, the Electra, the Glatton, the Pompey, and all our numerous war-ships which studded the Straits, shone white as snow in the sunbeams; while Sicilian gun-boats, slave-galleys, and xebecques dotted the sea between: the cloudless sky and the range of hills which terminates at the Faro, formed the background. Our casements were open, and the setting sun poured his bright rays into the castle-hall; the roof of which was covered with the dilapidated frescoes of Matteo Prette, and the faded coats armorial of the princes of Ruffo Scylla. It was a noble relic of other days. Massive Ionic columns of Sicilian marble, with bases of green Corsican jasper, rising from a tessellated floor, supported its arched roof; between these, in niches, were some rare pieces of ancient sculpture, dug from the ruins of the neighbouring Columna Rhegini: or, perhaps, relics of that edifice which Anaxilaus, its prince, first raised on the rock to defend him against the warriors of Tuscany. The early flowers of a warm Italian spring were blooming in the balconies, and their sweet perfume was wafted around us.
Bianca was seated at work, brocading a piece of scarlet Palmi silk, while I lounged on a sofa reading the last "Gazetta Britannica;" a silver caraffa of the cardinal's muscadel stood close at hand, and I thought, while knocking the ashes from my third cigar, that my situation on the staff would be a very pleasant one, if Monsieur le General Regnier contented himself by remaining entrenched at Cassano, instead of beating up my quarters at the extremity of lower Italy.