Sir John Constantine Part 53

"It is over," said Dom Basilio, slowly, after a long silence.

I saw the Queen lower the grey head back against its pillow, and turned to the window, where the Princess gazed out over the sea.

For a minute--maybe for longer--I stood beside her following her gaze; then, as she lifted a hand and pointed, I was aware of two ships on the south-west horizon, the both under full sail and standing towards the castle.

"Last night," said I, and paused, wondering if indeed so short a while had pa.s.sed; "theirs were the guns, off Nonza."

She nodded, meeting my eyes for an instant only, and averting hers again to the horizon. To my dismay they were dark and troubled.

"Not now--not now!" she murmured hurriedly, almost fiercely, as I would have touched her hand. Again her eyes crossed mine, and I read that love no longer looked forth from them, but a gloomy doubt in its place.

From the next window my Uncle Gervase had spied the ships, and now drew Dom Basilio's attention to them. The two discussed them for a minute. "Were they Corsican vessels, or Genoese?" Dom Basilio plucked me by the arm, to know my opinion. I told him of the firing we had heard off Nonza.

"In my belief," said I, "they are Corsicans that have drawn off from the bombardment, though why I cannot divine, unless it be in curiosity to discover why Giraglia was a-burning last night."

"If, on the other hand they be Genoese," answered my uncle, shaking his head, "this is a serious matter for us. The _Gauntlet_ has but five men aboard, and will be culled like a peach."

"Had she fifty, she could not keep up a fight against two gunboats-- as gunboats they appear to be," said I. "You will make a better defence of it from the island here, with the few cannon you have not dismounted."

"In that case I had best take boat, tell Captain Pomery to drop his anchor, leaving the ketch to her fate, and fetch him ash.o.r.e to help us."

"Do so," said I. "Yet I trust 'tis a false alarm; for that these are Corsicans I'll lay odds."

"It may even be," suggested Dom Basilio, "that the two are enemies, the one in chase of the other."

"No," I decided, scanning them; "for they have the look of being sister ships. And, see you, the leader has rounded the point and caught sight of the _Gauntlet_. Mark how she is carrying her headsheets over to windward, to let her consort overtake her."

"The lad's right!" exclaimed my uncle. "Well, G.o.d send they be not Genoese! but I must pull out to the ketch and make sure.

You, Prosper, can help Dom Basilio meanwhile to muster his men and right as many cannon as time allows."

He stepped to the door, tip-toeing softly, and we followed him--with a glance, as we went, at the figure bending over the bed. The Queen did not heed us.

From the upper terrace at the foot of the tower the Princess and I watched my uncle as, with two stalwart Trappists to row him, he pushed out and steered for the _Gauntlet_. We saw him run his boat alongside and climb aboard. Five slow minutes pa.s.sed, and it became apparent that Captain Pomery had views of his own about abandoning the ship, for the _Gauntlet_ neither dropped anchor nor took in canvas, but held on her tack, letting the boat drop astern on a tow-rope.

Just then Dom Basilio sent up half a dozen stout monks to me from the base of the rock; and for the next few minutes I was kept busy with them on the eastern bastion, refixing a gun which had been thrown off its carriage in the a.s.sault, until, casting another glance seaward, I saw to my amazement that the ketch had run up her British colours to her mizzen.

But happily Captain Pomery's defiance was thrown away. A minute later the leading gunboat ran up a small bundle on her main signal halliards, and shook out the green flag of Corsica.

"You can let the gun lie," said I to my monks. "These are friends."

"They are my countrymen," said the Princess at my elbow. "That they are friends is less certain."

"At any rate, they are lowering a boat," said I; "and see, my uncle is jumping into his, to intercept them."

The Corsicans, manning their boat, pulled straight for the island; but at half a mile's distance or less, being hailed by my uncle, lay on their oars and waited while he bore down on them. I saw him lift his hat to a man seated in the stern-sheets, who stood up and saluted politely in response. The two boats drew close alongside, while their commanders conversed, and after a couple of minutes resumed their way abreast and drew to the landing-quay, where Dom Basilio stood awaiting them.

"By his stature and bearing," said I, conning him through a gla.s.s which one of the monks pa.s.sed to me, "this must be the General himself."

"Paoli?" queried the Princess.

I nodded.

"Shall we go down the rock to meet him?"

"It is Paoli's place to mount to us," said she proudly.

We waited therefore while my uncle led him up to us. But Pascal Paoli was too great a man to trouble about his dignity; and for courtesies, he contented himself with omitting none.

"Salutation, O Princess!" He halted within a few steps of the head of the stairway, and lifted his hat.

"Salutation, O General!"

"And to you, Cavalier!" He included me in his bow, "Pouf!" he panted, looking about him; "the ascent is a sharp one, under the best conditions. And you carried it in the darkness, against odds?"

He turned upon my uncle. "You English are a great race."

"Excuse me, General," said my uncle, indicating Dom Basilio and the monks: "the credit belongs rather to my friends here."

"I had the pleasure to meet Sir John Constantine, a while ago, outside our new town of Isola Rossa, where he did me a signal service. You are his son, sir?"

I bowed.

"I condole with you, since I come too late to thank him--on behalf of Corsica, Princess--for a yet more brilliant service. An a.s.sault such as your party made last night requires brave men; but even more, it requires a brave leader and a genius even to conceive it. Let me say, sirs, that we heard your fire and saw Giraglia blazing, as far south as Nonza, where we were conducting a far meaner enterprise; and came north in wonder where Corsica had found such friends."

"Say rather, sir, where my mother had found them," interposed the Princess, coldly. "Is this curiosity of yours all your business?"

The General met her look frankly. If annoyed, he hid his annoyance.

"O Princess," answered he, "I will own that Corsica has left the Queen, your mother, overlong here in captivity. For reasons of state it was decided to work northward from point to point, clearing the Genoese as we went. We did not reckon that, before we reached Giraglia, an Englishman of genius would step in to antic.i.p.ate us.

Our hopes, Princess, fell short of an event so happy. But I can say that every Corsican is glad, and would wish to be such a hero."

"Did you, then, clear the Genoese from Nonza?" I put in hastily, noting the curl of my mistress's lips.

"Sir, there were no Genoese to clear. We bombarded it idly, only to learn that the Commandant Fornari had abandoned it some hours before; that he and his men had escaped northward in long boats, rowing close under the land."

I glanced at the Princess, and saw her mouth whiten. "Excuse me," I said. "Do you tell me that the whole garrison of Nonza had escaped?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Paoli, too, glanced at the Princess; but for an instant only. "We landed after the fortress had fired one single gun at us, which we silenced. Beside it we found two men standing at bay; its only defenders; and they, strange to tell, were Corsicans.

I have brought them with me on my own ship."

"You need not tell me their names," said I.

"My brother?" the Princess gasped. "Where is my brother?"

The General lowered his eyes. "I regret to tell you, Princess, that your brother has fallen into our enemies' hands. They have carried him north, to Genoa, and with him the Priest who was his confessor.

This I learned from your two heroes, who had entered Nonza with no other purpose than to rescue him, but had arrived too late.

They shall be brought ash.o.r.e, that you may question them.

"But what is this?" said a voice from the turret-door behind us.

"My son Camillo a prisoner, and in Genoa!"