Thus, by the force of the same genius with which he might have shone among men on the side of good, Appadocca was enabled to excel, to be unapproachable and irresistible in his career of crime and evil. The firmness of mind which enabled him to curb the natures of even pirates, and to establish a discipline on board the Black Schooner that made his men simultaneously act as if they were but the individual members of only one single body moved but by one spirit, might, perhaps, have procured for him the reputation of a wise and great leader; the powers of invention, which supplied even the deficiencies of human nature, and permitted him to make almost every element his servant, could again have handed down his name to posterity as that of a profound philosopher, if his talents had been turned to a proper object. But the combination of circumstances—destiny, decided otherwise, and instead of finding himself in the high position of good, Appadocca found himself, by the very necessity of those self-same talents, in the high position of evil.
It is not Emmanuel Appadocca alone that has been thus doomed to bury a high intellect in obscurity, or been impelled by circumstances to expend its force in guilt. No: the world seems scarcely as yet prepared for genius, a higher humanity is required and must exist, before the man who possesses it can find a congenial place of existence on this planet. Mere chance now moves the balance in which he is weighed; circumstances either hazardously call him forth, or he is left to feed upon his own disgust, until his rough sands are run, then earth covers over the fire that ought to burn only in the skies. From among one hundred men of genius scarcely one ever goes beyond the boundary of the desert on which so many flowers are destined to “blush unseen.”
It was two hours after noon, on the day which we have above mentioned, that Lorenzo was standing by the helmsman of the schooner, eagerly reading the reflections of the mirrors, when the signals of Appadocca from the man-of-war fell upon his eyes.
“What is this?” involuntarily exclaimed the officer, as he read the well-known symbols of his chief.
“Too late, too late! his stupidity has already made him undergo the torture,” he exclaimed, as he deciphered,—
“Treat well the officer, for they treat me well.—SCORPION.”
Lorenzo gave an order to the officer on duty; a piercing sound was then heard; in a moment or two, the sides of the schooner became peopled with men, whose brawny arms were bared up to the shoulders. Not a word was spoken. The polished and shining guns of the schooner were immediately pointed, they seemed to thrust their muzzles through the port-holes, as if they worked by one impulse, by their own choice and their own action, for the slightest difference could not be traced either in the time or in the manner in which each separate piece was moved to its proper place.
Another piercing sound: each gun was fired at the precise moment. The schooner shook under the deafening explosion that followed, and the ocean rang, and rang again with the echo.
This was Lorenzo’s reply to the request of Appadocca.