The Pobratim Part 83

All at once a mightier gust of wind came down upon the ship, the beams groaned, then there was a tremendous crash and one of the masts came down. There was a moment of panic and confusion; Vranic fell upon his knees and began to pray for help.

Soon after that a light was seen at no very great distance.

"We are saved," said the captain; "there is Cape Campanella lighthouse."

All eyes were fixed upon that beacon.

"It is rather too low to be Cape Campanella," added the boatswain.

"Yes; and, besides, it flashes every two minutes," replied the captain.

They thereupon concluded that it was the lighthouse on Carena Point, the south-western extremity of the island of Capri.

Thinking it to be Cape Campanella, they had steered towards the light--the only dangerous part of the island, on account of the reef, which stretches out a long way into the sea. When they found out their mistake it was too late to avoid the danger that threatened them; the ship was dashed against the rocks, which were heard grating under the keel and ripping open the sides, like the teeth of some famished monster of the deep. Fortunately, the brig had got tightly wedged between two rocks and kept fast there, so nothing was to be done but work hard at the pumps, trying to keep out as much water as they possibly could.

The night seemed everlasting. Still, by degrees, the storm subsided, and at dawn the wind had gone down and the sea had grown calm.

At daybreak help came from the sh.o.r.e.

"The ship is very much damaged," said the captain, "and so is the cargo, doubtless; but, at least, there are no lives lost," added he, looking round.

A few moments afterwards, the boatswain, wanting something, called Gennaro, but no answer came. He called again and again, cursed his canine breed, but with no better success.

"Where is Gennaro?" asked the captain.

The youth was sought down below, but he was nowhere to be found. All the men of the crew looked at one another enquiringly, and at last the questions that everyone was afraid to ask were uttered.

Had the youth been swept away by one of the huge breakers that washed over the deck? Had he been killed by the falling mast, or blown into the deep by a sudden and unexpected gust of wind? No one had seen him disappear; all looked around, expecting to see the handsome face of the youth they loved so well rising above the waves; but the green waters kept their secret. After that, all eyes turned towards Vranic, as if asking for an answer.

"The last time I saw the youth was when he was working at the pumps by me, just before the mast came down."

They all muttered some oath, unintelligible to him, and then a prayer for the youth. After that Vranic was only too glad to leave the ship, for every man on board seemed to look upon him as the cause of Gennaro's mysterious disappearance.

Having remained a week in Naples, seeing his money, the only thing he loved, dwindle away, Vranic did his best to find some employment. He for a few days got a living as a porter, helping to unload sacks from an English ship. Still, that was but a very precarious living, and he decided to follow a seafaring life, not because he was fond of it, but only to keep clear from his enemies and the laws of his country, and the vampire that had haunted him there every night.

He happened to find employment, as cook, on the very ship he had helped to discharge. It was an English schooner, bound for Glasgow.

The captain, a crusty old bachelor, was a real hermit-crab; the men, a most ruffianly set. Vranic, being hardly able to speak with anyone, indulged in his morose way of living, and, except for being kicked about every now and then, he was left very much to himself.

From Glasgow the schooner sailed for Genoa, where she arrived just as the _Giustizia di Dio_ was about to set sail. The two ships came so close together that Vranic, who kept a sharp look-out whenever he saw an Austrian flag, recognised Milenko standing on the deck and ordering some manoeuvres.

Although the young man could not perceive him, hidden as he was in the darkness of the galley, and bending over the stove, still Vranic felt a shock that for a few moments almost deprived him of his senses, and made him feel quite sick.

That day the dinner was quite a failure. The roast was burnt; the potatoes, instead, were raw; the cauliflower was uneatable, and salt had been put in the pudding instead of sugar.

If there is anything trying to human patience, it is a spoilt dinner, especially the first one gets in port. It is, therefore, not to be wondered at that the captain, never very forbearing at the best of times, got so angry that he kicked Vranic down the hatchway and almost crippled him.

Although the Dalmatian ship sailed away, bound probably towards the East, and he would perhaps never see her captain again, still the shock he felt had quite unnerved him. From that day matters began to go on from bad to worse. Sailing from Genoa, they first met with contrary winds, and much time was lost cruising about; after that came a spell of calm weather, and for long weeks they remained in sight of the bold promontory and of the lighthouse of Cape Bearn, not far from the port of Vendres. At last a fair wind arose, the sails were made taut, and the schooner flew on the crested waves. A new life seemed to have come over the crew, tired of their listless inactivity; the captain cursed Vranic and kicked him a little less than he had done on the previous days.

It was to be hoped that the wind would continue fair; otherwise their provisions would begin falling short. Ill-luck, however, was awaiting them in another direction.

Opening a keg of salted meat a few days later, the stench was so loathsome, that it reminded Vranic of that awful night when he had stabbed the vampire; besides, big worms were crawling and wriggling at the top. Vranic at once called the mate and showed him the rotten meat, and the mate reported the fact to the captain. He only answered with a few oaths, then shrugged his shoulders, and said that dogs would lick their chops at such dainty morsels, and were his men any better than dogs?

"Wash it well, clean it, and put some vinegar with it," said the mate, who was the best man on board. "There is no other meat, and that is better than starving."

Vranic did as he was bid; he put more pepper than usual. Still, he himself did not taste it, but lived on biscuit, for even the potatoes had been all eaten up.

A few days afterwards, taking out another piece from the cask, he drew out a sinewy human arm, hacked in several places, and with the fingers chopped off. Shuddering, and seized with a feeling of loathsomeness, he stood for a moment bewildered. Then he almost fancied he had touched something hairy in the cask, and looking in, he saw a disfigured and bearded man's head. Sickening at the gruesome sight, he dropped the arm into the cask and hastened to the mate, trying to explain to him what the barrel contained.

The mate could hardly understand and would not believe him, but soon he had to yield to the evidence of his own senses. The mate, in his turn, reported the horrible fact to the captain, who asked both men not to divulge the secret to the crew. When night came on, the cask and its contents were thrown overboard. The captain was not to blame for what the cask contained, nor were the ship-chandlers, who had supplied him at other times upon leaving Scotland. The cask bore the trade-mark of a well-known foreign house trading in preserved meat.

The provisions, which had been scarce, now began to fall short; but in a day or two they would have reached their destination. The wind, however, was contrary, and some delay ensued. Hunger was now beginning to be felt. The crew, overworked and badly fed, first grew sullen; the foremost of them, with scowling looks, began to utter threatening words. Orders given were badly obeyed, or not obeyed at all. Long pent-up anger seemed every moment ready to break out--first against the captain, then against the mate, finally against Vranic, who, they said, was leagued against them.

The boatswain especially hated him.

"Since that cursed foreigner has come on board," said he, "everything has been going from bad to worse. Even the provisions seem to dwindle and waste away."

"I'd not be surprised," added one of the sailors, "that he is leagued with the captain to poison the whole lot of us, for, in fact, the meat tasted like carrion, and I don't know what's up with me."

"Nonsense! Why poison us? Starving is much better," quoth another.

A trifle soon brought on a quarrel, which ended in a tussle. Vranic got cuffed and kicked about; he had been born in an unlucky moment, and everyone hated him without really understanding why or wherefore.

Why do most people dislike toads or blind-worms?

The mate, seeing the poor cook unfairly used, interfered on his behalf, and tried to put an end to the fight. This only made matters worse. The captain, hearing the noise, appeared on deck, and a mutiny at once broke out.

The boatswain, who was at the head of the revolted crew, s.n.a.t.c.hing up a hatchet which happened to be there within his reach, advanced and demanded a distribution of provisions.

The captain, for all answer, knocked him down with a crow-bar; at the same time he showed the crew the coast of England, which was faintly visible at a distance, as well as a man-of-war coming full sail towards them.

A day after this incident, the ship had landed her rebellious crew at Cardiff. The boatswain was sent to jail, where, if he had been a man of a philosophical turn of mind, he might have meditated on the difference between right and might.

As for Vranic, he was but too glad to quit a ship where he was hated by everybody, even by the captain, who had treated him more like a galley slave than a fellow-creature.

After having earned a pittance as a porter for a short time, he again embarked on board the _Ave Maria_, an Austrian ship bound for Ma.r.s.eilles. This ship had had a remarkably prosperous voyage from the Levant. The captain had received a handsome gratuity, and now a cargo had been taken at a very high freight; therefore, from the captain to the cabin-boy, every man on board was merry and worked with a good will.

Although the weather was bleak, rainy and foggy, still the wind blew steadily; moreover, the _Ave Maria_ was a good ship, and a fast sailer, withal she laboured under a great disadvantage, that of being overladen, and was, consequently, always shipping heavy seas.

On leaving Cardiff, the captain found that two of the sailors, who had been indulging in excesses of every kind whilst on sh.o.r.e, were in a bad state of health. A third sickened a few days afterwards, and for a long time all three were quite unfit for work. Still, the ship managed to reach Ma.r.s.eilles without any mishap.

The cargo was unloaded, a fresh one was taken on board; the men received medical a.s.sistance, and seemed to be recovering. On leaving Ma.r.s.eilles, matters went from bad to worse; the captain, his mate, and two other sailors fell ill.

"It seems," said the captain, "as if someone has the gift of the evil eye, for, since we left England, ill-luck follows in our wake."

The crew was, therefore, greatly diminished, for the three men, who had been recovering, were now, on account of improper food and overwork, quite ill again.

On leaving Ma.r.s.eilles they met with heavy gales and baffling squalls of wind; the ship began to pitch heavily, then to labour and strain in such a way that, overladen as she was, the pestilence-stricken crew could hardly manage her. For three days the wind blew with such violence that two men had to be constantly kept at the helm.

Moreover, she shipped so many seas that hands had to be always at the pumps. The very first day the waves had washed away the coops; then, at last, the jib-boom and the bowsprit shrouds had been broken loose and torn away by the grasp of the storm.