The Pirate City Part 40

As to the various members of the Rimini family, it may suffice that we should dismiss them by drawing a slight sketch:

In a Sicilian cottage near the sea, a little old lady--some would say a dear little old lady--sits in a high-backed chair. She gazes pensively, now on the blue Mediterranean, now on a family group which consists of the dark-eyed Juliet and the earnest Lucien, who are vainly striving to restrain the violence of their youngest son; the eldest being engaged in a surrept.i.tious attempt to pull down a map of Algiers, which hangs on the opposite wall. Mariano, with his wonted vivacity, stands before the old lady tossing a small female specimen of humanity as near to the ceiling as is compatible with prolonged existence. Angela looks on admiringly. She does not appear to care much for Mariano now! Why she takes so much interest in the female baby we leave to the reader to discover. Old Francisco is there too, bluffer and bolder than ever, and so is Paulina, with a beautiful dark-haired girl, who is the very image of the tall handsome man engaged in conversation with Francisco.

It is no accidental coincidence this meeting. It is a family gathering, planned and carried out from year to year, in commemoration of the day when the family was delivered from slavery and sorrow.

They have just finished dinner, and there has been much earnest, thankful converse about the days gone by. They have fought their battles o'er again. They have re-told the oft-told tales, feeling as if they were almost new, and have reiterated their grat.i.tude to the G.o.d of Love for His great and manifold mercies.

We have not s.p.a.ce to relate all that they said, but we may give the concluding sentences.

"You're a wild boy, Mariano, as you always were," said the little old lady with the rippling mouth, as the young man plunged his little daughter into her lap head-foremost.

"And as I mean to be to the end of the chapter," replied Mariano. "How often, grandmother, have you not tried to impress on me the importance of following good examples? Have I not acted on your advice? Doubtless no man is perfect, and I am far--very far--from claiming to have been thoroughly successful in my efforts; but I have tried hard. Did I not, while in Algiers, follow the example of my dear father in exhibiting at all times a spirit of obstinacy that all but drove the pirates delirious with rage? Did I not afterwards imitate Lucien, (your pet-pattern), in getting to me the very best wife that the wide world could produce, and do I not now intend to follow your own example in remaining young in spirit until I am old in years? Taunt me not, then, with being wild-- you cannot cure me."

"I fear not," replied the little old lady with a sigh which did not accord in the slightest degree with the ripples that played round her lips.

"Wildness runs in the family, mother," said Francisco, with a broad smile and a glance at Lucien's eldest hope, who had at that moment succeeded in breaking the string of the map, and pulling Algiers down on his head, "the Riminis have it in the blood and bone.--Get up and don't whimper, there's a brave fellow," added the burly merchant as the astonished youth arose; "I only wish that one of the great Powers would pull down the real city of pirates as effectually as you have settled the map. Lord Exmouth no doubt gave it a magnificent pounding, but utter obliteration is the only thing that will do."

"That's true, father," cried Lucien; "it must be conquered by a civilised nation, and the Turks be driven out, or held in subjection, if Europe is to have peace. Depend on't they will be at their old tricks ere long."

"I should like to be commander-in-chief when the war of conquest begins," said Mariano.

"A poor job you'd make of it, my son," said Francisco.

"Why so, father?"

"Why? because hot blood and a giddy head with a revengeful spirit are not the best elements wherewith to construct a commander-in-chief."

"Ah! father, with every wish to be respectful I cannot refrain from reminding you of a certain pot which was reported once to have called a kettle black. Ha!" continued Mariano, turning towards the little old lady, "you should have seen him, granny, in the Bagnio of Algiers, when the guards were inclined to be rather hard on some of the sick--"

"No, no!" interrupted the old lady, shaking her head; "don't talk of that."

"Well, I won't, except to say that I'm thankful we are well out of it."

"It seems all like a strange dream," returned the old lady thoughtfully.

"So it does, mother," murmured Francisco, "so it does,--an almost incredible dream."

And so it seems to us, reader, now that we have closed the record of it; nevertheless it was no dream, but a sad and stern reality to those who played their part in it--to those who sorrowed and suffered, sixty years ago, in the Pirate City.

THE END.