“Huzza for Zappa—huzza for the gallant Sea Hawk!” was echoed by the people on the beach, taken up by his followers, and repeated by those on the cliffs above, till Nina heard the cry as she sat in her watch-tower. She trembled and turned pale, for her heart longed to see him; yet she almost feared his coming. Poor girl! she little knew what was in store for her.
The captain of the Sea Hawk was the first person to land, accompanied by the young Italian, Paolo. As he stepped on shore, his own particular adherents welcomed him with loud shouts, and he returned this greeting courteously.
“Ah! Vlacco, old friend, I rejoice to see you strong and well,” he said, cordially holding out his hand; and in like manner he spoke to others of the band. Whatever he was in other places, and whatever opinion the reader may have formed of him, he was, among his own people, and on board his own ship, in every respect, the chieftain. There was a boldness and independence, even a dignity in his manner, which awed inferior spirits, and made them willingly obey him, though he might have been at the time thoroughly destitute of every quality which constitutes true greatness of character. Zappa had always been successful. It was the cause of his rise—the only secret of his power. He had been fortunate in his first speculation—an attack on an unarmed merchantman, most of whose crew were on shore. He carried off a rich booty, and had the opportunity of boasting of his deeds among those who would willingly have shared in them. His fame spread. He collected followers, and became a chieftain.
The eyes of the old pirate brightened, and a smile even lighted up his grim visage, as he received this mark of his leader’s regard.
“Yes, I am proud to repeat, that all has gone well during the time you have been away,” he replied.
“And the Lady Nina,” said Zappa, taking the old man aside, “has she appeared to grieve for my absence, and for that of her brother?”
“Grieve—indeed, she has—so says my grandchild Mila. She has done nothing but sigh and sob, and look out on the sea all day long; but whether it was for you or her brother she mourned I cannot say,” was old Vlacco’s answer.
“Well, I will—I must try and dry her tears now, so I’ll to the tower,” said the pirate, taking the path up the ravine. “Come, Paolo, we’ll go and see how fares your sweet sister.”
But Paolo had disappeared. The moment he had touched the shore, while the chief was addressing his followers, he had slipped off, and with quick steps had hurried up the ravine. He was already out of sight, winding his way up the steep ascent which led to the tower. Zappa was excessively angry at this; for he wished to be the first to salute Nina, and he was afraid her brother would inform her of things of which he wished her, at present, to be kept in ignorance. He therefore hurried after him, followed at a distance by Vlacco and his band, who could in no way keep pace with his vigorous and active steps. He hoped to overtake the young Italian; but Paolo was also active, and he was eager to embrace his sister—the only being in the world whom he felt could love him—the only one he had loved.
The door of the tower stood open, and with haste he ascended the steep steps, which led to her chamber. He threw open the door, and stood at the entrance; her arms were round her brother’s neck, and she was weeping. For an instant she did not perceive that any one else was present—she looked up, and beheld the pirate. With a cry, she tore herself from her brother’s embrace, and, rushing towards Zappa, threw herself into his arms.