"The night before he was about to leave his village a storm destroyed the bridge over which he had to pass."
"Well—and then?"
"He waited till they built another bridge."
"But go on."
"There is no going on, for the young man is waiting still," said he, with a sneer.
After two or three days, Vranic was looked upon by all on board as a peevish, sullen fellow, and he was left to his own dreary meditations.
One of the sailors, besides, got it into his head that Vranic had the gift of the evil eye, and it did not take very long to convince every man on board of the truth of this assertion. Whenever he looked at them, they invariably shut their two middle fingers, and pointed the index and little finger at him, so as to counteract the effect of the jettatura. The only man on board who did not fear Vranic was the mate, for he possessed a charm far more potent than a crooked nail, a horse-shoe, a bit of horned coral, or even a little silver hump-backed man—this was a horse-chestnut, which he was once fortunate enough to catch as it was falling from the tree, and before it had touched the ground. He cherished it as a treasure, and kept it constantly in his pocket. It was infallible against the evil eye, and was powerful in many other circumstances. He was a most lucky man, and, in fact, he felt sure he owed his good fortune to this talisman of his.
Although the weather was delightful, still the captain and the crew could not help feeling a kind of premonition of evil to come; all were afraid that, sooner or later, Vranic would bring them ill-luck. At last the coasts of Italy were in sight, but with the far-off coasts, a small cloud, a mere speck of vapour, was seen on the horizon. It was but a tiny white flake, a soft, silvery spray, torn from some shrub blossoming in an unknown Eden, and blown by the west wind in the sky. It also looked like a patch worn by coquettish Nature to enhance the diaphanous watchet-blue of the atmosphere. Still, the sailors frowned at it, and called the feathery cloudlet —scudding lazily about—a squall, and they were all glad to be in sight of the land. The breeze freshened, the sea changed its colour, the waves rolled heavily; their tops were crested with foam. Still, the ship made gallantly for the neighbouring coast.
The little cloud kept increasing in size; first it lengthened itself in a wonderful way, like a snake spreading itself out; it also grew of a darker, duller tint. Then it rolled itself together, piled itself up, augmenting in volume, till it almost covered the whole of the horizon. Finally, it began to droop downwards, tapering ever lower, and losing itself in a mist. The sea underneath began to be agitated, to boil and to bubble, seething with white foam; then a dense smoke arose from the sea and mounted upwards as if to meet the descending column of mist from the cloud just above it; both the cloud and the upheaving waves moved with the greatest rapidity, and seemed to be attracted by the ship, which endeavoured to tack about and steer away from them.
All at once, the water overhead met the ascending mist, and then a sparkling, silvery cloud arose in the spout, just like quicksilver in a glass tube.