The Fortunes Of Glencore Part 58

"What a life!" cried the youth, in an accent of utter pity.

"Faix, it was an elegant life,--that is, when the weather was anyways good. With a bright sun s.h.i.+nin' and a fine fresh breeze blowin' the white clouds away over the Atlantic, my road was a right cheery one, and I went along inventin' stories, sometimes fairy tales, sometimes makin'

rhymes to myself, but always happy and contented. There wasn't a bit of the way I had n't a name for in my own mind, either some place I read about, or some scene in a story of my own; but better than all, there was a dog,--a poor starved lurcher he was,--with a bit of the tail cut off; he used to meet me, as regular as the clock, on the side of Currah-na-geelah, and come beside me down to the ford every day in the year. No temptation nor flattery would bring him a step farther. I spent three-quarters of an hour once trying it, but to no good; he took leave of me on the bank of the river, and went away back with his head down, as if he was grievin' over something. Was n't that mighty curious?"

"Perhaps, like ourselves, Billy, he wasn't quite sure of his pa.s.sport,"

said the other, dryly.

"Faix, may be so," replied he, with perfect seriousness. "My notion was that he was a kind of an outlaw, a chap that maybe bit a child of the family, or ate a lamb of a flock given him to guard. But indeed his general appearance and behavior was n't like that; he had good manners, and, starved as he was, he never snapped the bread out of my fingers, but took it gently, though his eyes was dartin' out of his head with eagerness all the while."

"A great test of good breeding, truly," said the youth, sadly. "It must be more than a mere varnish when it stands the hard rubs of life in this wise."

"'Tis the very notion occurred to myself. It was the dhrop of good blood in him made him what he was."

Stealthy and fleeting as was the look that accompanied these words, the youth saw it, and blushed to the very top of his forehead. "The night grows milder," said he, to relieve the awkwardness of the moment by any remark.

"It's a mighty grand sight out there now," replied the other; "there's three miles if there's an inch of white foam das.h.i.+ng down to the sea, that breaks over the bar with a crash like thunder; big trees are sweepin' past, and pieces of vine trellises, and a bit of a mill-wheel, all carried off just like twigs on a stream."

"Would money tempt those fellows, I wonder, to venture out on such a night as this?"

"To be sure; and why not? The daily fight poverty maintains with existence dulls the sense of every danger but what comes of want. Don't I know it myself? The poor man has no inimy but hunger; for, ye see, the other vexations and troubles of life, there's always a way of gettin'

round them. You can chate even grief, and you can slip away from danger; but there's no circ.u.mventin' an empty stomach."

"What a tyrant is then your rich man!" sighed the youth, heavily.

"That he is. 'Dives honoratus. Pulcher rex denique regum.' You may do as you please if ye'r rich as a Begum."

"A free translation, rather, Billy," said the other, laughing.

"Or ye might render it this way," said Billy,--

"If ye 've money enough and to spare in the bank, The world will give ye both beauty and rank.

And I 've nothing to say agin it," continued he. "The raal stimulus to industhry in life, is to make wealth powerful. Gettin' and heapin'

up money for money's sake is a debasin' kind of thing; but makin' a fortune, in order that you may extind your influence, and mowld the distinies of others,--that's grand."

"And see what comes of it!" cried the youth, bitterly. "Mark the base and unworthy subserviency it leads to; see the race of sycophants it begets."

"I have you there, too," cried Billy, with all the exultation of a ready debater. "Them dirty varmint ye speak of is the very test of the truth I 'm tellin' ye. 'T is because they won't labor--because they won't work--that they are driven to acts of sycophancy and meanness. The spirit of industhry saves a man even the excuse of doin' anything low!"

"And how often, from your own lips, have I listened to praises at your poor humble condition; rejoicings that your lot in life secured you against the cares of wealth and grandeur!"

"And you will again, plaze G.o.d! if _I_ live, and _you_ pre-sarve your hearin'. What would I be if I was rich, but an ould--an ould voluptuary?" said Billy, with great emphasis on a word he had some trouble in discovering. "Atin' myself sick with delicacies, and drinkin'

cordials all day long. How would I know the uses of wealth? Like all other vulgar creatures, I 'd be buyin' with my money the respect that I ought to be buyin' with my qualities. It's the very same thing you see in a fair or a market,--the country girls goin' about, hobbled and crippled with shoes on, that, if they had bare feet, could walk as straight as a rush. Poverty is not ungraceful itself. It's tryin' to be what isn't natural, spoils people entirely."

"I think I hear voices without. Listen!" cried the youth.

"It 's only the river; it's risin' every minute."

"No, that was a shout. I heard it distinctly. Ay, the boatmen hear it now!"

"It is a travelling-carriage. I see the lamps," cried one of the men, as he stood at the door and looked landward. "They may as well keep the road; there's no crossing the Magra to-night!"

By this time the postilions' whips commenced that chorus of cracking by which they are accustomed to announce all arrivals of importance.

"Tell them to go back, Beppo," said the chief of the raftsmen to one of his party. "If we might try to cross with the mail-bags in a boat, there's not one of us would attempt the pa.s.sage on the raft."

To judge from the increased noise and uproar, the travellers' impatience had now reached its highest point; but to this a slight lull succeeded, probably occasioned by the parley with the boatman.

"They'll give us five Napoleons for the job," said Beppo, entering, and addressing his Chief.

"_Per Dio_, that won't support our families if we leave them fatherless," muttered the other. "Who and what are they that can't wait till morning?"

"Who knows?" said Beppo, with a genuine shrug of native indifference.

"Princes, belike!"

"Princes or beggars, we all have lives to save!" mumbled out an old man, as he reseated himself by the fire. Meanwhile the courier had entered the hut, and was in earnest negotiation with the chief, who, however, showed no disposition to run the hazard of the attempt.

"Are you all cowards alike?" said the courier, in all the insolence of his privileged order; "or is it a young fellow of _your_ stamp that shrinks from the risk of a wet jacket?"

This speech was addressed to the youth, whom he had mistaken for one of the raftsmen.

"Keep your coa.r.s.e speeches for those who will bear them, my good fellow," said the other, boldly, "or mayhap the first wet jacket here will be one with gold lace on the collar."

"He's not one of us; he's a traveller," quickly interposed the chief, who saw that an angry scene was brewing. "He's only waiting to cross the river," muttered he in a whisper, "when some one comes rich enough to hire the raft."

"_Sacre bleu!_ Then he shan't come with us; that I'll promise him," said the courier, whose offended dignity roused all his ire. "Now, once for all, my men, will you earn a dozen Napoleons, or not? Here they are for you if you land us safely at the other side; and never were you so well paid in your lives for an hour's labor."

The sight of the gold, as it glistened temptingly in his outstretched hand, appealed to their hearts far more eloquently than all his words, and they gathered in a group together to hold counsel.

"And you, are you also a distinguished stranger?" said the courier, addressing Billy, who sat warming his hands by the embers of the fire.

"Look you, my man," cried the youth, "all the gold in your master's leathern bag there can give you no claim to insult those who have offered you no offence. It is enough that you know that we do not belong to the raft to suffer us to escape your notice."

"_Sacristi!_" exclaimed the courier, in a tone of insolent mockery, "I have travelled the road long enough to learn that one does not need an introduction before addressing a vagabond."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 402]

"Vagabond!" cried the youth, furiously; and he sprang at the other with the bound of a tiger. The courier quickly parried the blow aimed at him, and, closely grappled, they both now reeled out of the hut in terrible conflict. With that terror of the knife that figures in all Italian quarrels, the boatmen did not dare to interfere, but looked on as, wrestling with all their might, the combatants struggled, each endeavoring to push the other towards the stream. Billy, too, restrained by force, could not come to the rescue, and could only by words, screamed out in all the wildness of his agony, encourage his companion.

"Drop on your knee--catch him by the legs--throw him back--back into the stream. That's it--that's it! Good luck to ye!" shouted he, madly, as he fought like a lion with those about him. Slipping in the slimy soil, they had both now come to their knees; and after a struggle of some minutes' duration, rolled, clasped in each other's fierce embrace, down the slope into the river. A plash, and a cry half smothered, were heard, and all was over.

While some threw themselves on the frantic creature, whose agony now overtopped his reason, and who fought to get free, with the furious rage of despair, others, seizing lanterns and torches, hurried along the bank of the torrent to try and rescue the combatants. A sudden winding of the river at the place gave little hope to the search, and it was all but certain that the current must already have swept them down far beyond any chance of succor. a.s.sisted by the servants of the traveller, who speedily were apprised of the disaster, the search was continued for hours, and morning at length began to break over the dreary scene, without one ray of hope. By the gray cold dawn, the yellow flood could be seen for a considerable distance, and the banks too, over which a gauzy mist was hanging; but not a living thing was there! The wild torrent swept along his murky course with a deep monotonous roar. Trunks of trees and leafy branches rose and sank in the wavy flood, but nothing suggested the vaguest hope that either had escaped. The traveller's carriage returned to Spezia, and Billy, now bereft of reason, was conveyed to the same place, fast tied with cords, to restrain him from a violence that threatened his own life and that of any near him.

In the evening of that day a peasant's car arrived at Spezia, conveying the almost lifeless courier, who had been found on the river's bank, near the mouth of the Magra. How he had reached the spot, or what had become of his antagonist, he knew not. Indeed, the fever which soon set in placed him beyond the limit of all questioning, and his incoherent cries and ravings only betrayed the terrible agonies his mind must have pa.s.sed through.

If this tragic incident, heightened by the actual presence of two of the actors--one all but dead, the other dying--engaged the entire interest and sympathy of the little town, the authorities were actively employed in investigating the event, and ascertaining, so far as they could, to which side the chief blame inclined.

The raftsmen had all been arrested, and were examined carefully, one by one; and now it only remained to obtain from the traveller himself whatever information he could contribute to throw light on the affair.