Yielding to Ella’s entreaties, Evelyn consented to make one of the party, and arranged on the following morning to drive to Sorento and there embark in our friend’s yacht. I was excused, as all were aware that a marine excursion was anything but a pleasure to me. It was proposed first to visit the purple cave of Capri, which can only be entered in calm weather and at low tide. Even then the visitor must almost recline in the boat, so low is the entrance to the cave. When this difficulty is passed you are amply repaid by the sight of a lofty dome of rock, spanning a body of water actually of the color of indigo. Great care is necessary in making the visit that no storm is in prospect, for when the waves are high, the imprudent traveler has been unable to return, sometimes for days, in consequence of the exit to the cave having been entirely submerged by the raging element which surrounds it.
Our party entered under favorable auspices, for the sea was calm, though there was at the same time a ground swell, which had made poor Ella very sea-sick, and obliged her to be left on a sofa in the yacht. Ella’s indisposition gave rise to a rather amusing adventure which I shall now relate:
On her return on board, Evelyn found the child very ill, so much so as to alarm her mother who went to Captain Blake and begged him to put them instantly ashore.
“My dear lady,” replied he, “it is all very well for you to talk, but I know no landing place within some hours’ sail.”
“Then,” besought Evelyn, “let us put back to Sorento.”
“Impossible,” exclaimed the captain, “the little wind there is, is contrary. It would take us twelve hours to get there.”
Just then di Balzano made his appearance, and the poor mother, in despair, began in Italian to explain the circumstances to him. The duke in the kindest manner reassured Captain Blake as to the nature of the coast, and informed Evelyn that although he knew of no good landing place near, he would gladly escort her and little Ella in safety home to Castellamare. “But,” he added, looking at Evelyn, “the signorina must have a little patience, for we cannot make even the nearest landing place till nightfall.”
Gratefully thanking him, Evelyn returned to her daughter, who soon became pacified under the hope of once more being on terra firma.
At eight o’clock, true to his promise, the Captain stopped the schooner, a boat was lowered, and the party entered. Balzano held the sick child in his arms like a tender nurse. The landing was indeed far rougher than even he had expected—it was a regular mountain scramble in the dark. Arrived at the summit, Ella and her mother were glad to repose on the floor of the miserable hut appropriated to the coast guard. On inquiry, they learned they were eight miles from Sorento, the road thither lying over a mountain ridge, which must be passed on donkeys. None of these animals, they were told, were to be had under a two-hours’ ride from thence. Balzano at once started in search of asses, pressing a boy into the service. For nearly three hours did the poor tired travellers wait in the smoky atmosphere of the guard-house, the return of their kind escort. At last the welcome patter of donkeys’ feet was heard, and three sorry beasts made their appearance. No time was lost in mounting. Balzano, who was dressed in summer costume, wrapped his plaid around Evelyn, who had placed her own shawl about the little girl.
The cold on the mountains was excessive, the path difficult, and there was no moon. At about two A. M. the party arrived at Sorento; but though they knocked loudly at the doors of the principal hotels, no one would rise to admit them. A testy Englishman only, in a red night-cap, looked out from a third floor window, and abused them in very bad Italian for disturbing his slumbers. Evelyn getting angry herself, replied in the same language, which her excitement rendered less melodiously correct than usual. The colloquy greatly amused her cavalier, who laughed heartily at the expense of the dui Inglese disputing in bad Italian.