Out with Garibaldi: A story of the liberation of Italy

“We will take a middle course,” he said. “We will leave the church, and conceal ourselves within a short distance of the door into the vestry. One of us must hide close to it, so that if any of our comrades come up and knock at the door for admission, he can bring them to us. We can then learn what has happened. If even eight or ten have escaped, we will return to the church and hold it; if only one or two, we will, when the brigands arrive and there is no chance of others coming, start for Bronte.”

“That is a capital plan,” Sarto exclaimed; and a murmur from the others showed that they too warmly approved.

“There is no hurry,” Frank went on. “We will eat a good meal before we start, then there will be no occasion to burden ourselves with provisions. Before leaving, we will light fresh candles: there are four or five pounds in the vestry. We will leave four alight in each floor of the tower, and the rest in different parts of the church, so that, when the brigands do arrive, they will think that we are watchful and well prepared for them. It is not likely they will know exactly what strength Rubini had with him, but will think that we have at least ten or twelve men with us, and will be sure to hesitate a little before they make an attack. They will take some little time to burst in the great doors; and even the door of the vestry is strong enough to bear a good deal of battering before they break that in, so that we shall get a good long start of them. Of course they may pursue, but we can keep on the road for the first half-mile, and then turn off and make our way through the forest. We can’t go very far wrong, as it is always a descent; besides, for aught they will know, we may have been gone a couple of hours before they get here. I think in that way we shall have done our duty to our comrades, and at the same time secured our own safety, for we have no right to throw away our lives when we can still do some work for Italy.”

“It could not be better,” Maffio said. “In that way we shall have the consolation of knowing that none of our friends, who have been wounded, have dragged themselves here after we had left only to find that they were deserted; while on the other hand it does away with the necessity of our throwing away our lives altogether uselessly. I revert to my former idea, Percival. If ever I have sons, I will send them to one of your great schools in England. It is clear that the life there and your rough games make men of you.”

They first sat down and ate a hearty meal of bread and wine, and then fresh candles were lighted and placed as Frank had directed. Then they left the church, locking the vestry door behind them. Sarto lay down behind a tombstone ten yards from the door, and the others took their places behind the low wall that ran round the church-yard. After waiting an hour Frank returned to Sarto.

“I am going,” he said, “to conceal myself at the end of the village, close enough to the road to hear anything that is said by people coming along. If, as I hope, they may be some of our men, I will join them and bring them on here, if not I will make my way here at once, and will give a low whistle. Directly you hear me, retire and join us. It will give us a few minutes’ extra time, for you may be sure that when they see the church lighted up, those who first arrive will wait for the rest before running the risk of a shot from the tower. When all are gathered no doubt there will be a good deal of talk as to how they had best attack it.”

Leaving Sarto, Frank made his way through the gardens until he arrived at the end of the village, and then sat down behind a low wall, close to the road. In half an hour he heard footsteps, and judged that six or eight men were coming from the forest.

“There is no doubt they are on the watch there,” one of them said; “the windows in the tower are lit up, – we shall have some work to do before we finish with them. They fought bravely – I will say that for them; and although half their number fell at our first volley, they killed eight or ten of our men, and wounded as many more, before, when there were only about half a dozen of them left, they broke through us and ran. It was lucky that Phillipo’s band arrived in time, for notwithstanding the surprise, I doubt whether we should have beaten them, had we been alone. It was a good thought of Prato to send young Vico to follow that woman, and that he saw her talking to the officer.”

Frank could hear no more, but rising quietly, he retraced his steps at a run, and as soon as he joined his companions gave a low whistle, which in a minute brought Sarto to his side.

“It is as I feared,” he said: “they laid an ambush for Rubini, and shot down half his men at once; the rest kept together and fought till all but six or seven were killed, and these burst through them and took to flight; and I am afraid that those shots we heard told that some even of these were overtaken and killed. Now let us be going; there were only about eight men in the party who first came along, and we may be sure that nothing will be attempted until the rest arrive. The men had noticed our lights in the tower, and evidently expected that we should sell our lives dearly; at any rate, we can calculate upon at least half an hour before they break into the church and find that we have left.”

They were obliged to go cautiously before they gained the road beyond the village, and then they broke into a trot.

“Half an hour will mean something like four miles,” Frank said; “and as it is not likely that they can run much faster than we are going, we may safely calculate that they will not overtake us for over an hour after they do start, and by that time we shall be well within five miles of Bronte. Indeed, with the slope in our favour, I am not sure that we may not calculate upon reaching the town itself; they certainly ought not to be able to run fifteen miles while we are running eleven.”

“If they do we should deserve to be caught,” Maffio said; “but I should think that they would not follow us far, as, for anything they can tell, we may have left the church a couple of hours ago.”

There were few words spoken as they ran steadily along. The thought of the slaughter of so many of their friends oppressed them all, and the fact that they had personally escaped was, at present, a small consolation. Frank had not been long enough with the company to make the acquaintance of many of the men, but he felt the loss of Rubini extremely. At Genoa, during the voyage, and on the march to Palermo, they had been constantly together, and the older man had treated him with as much cordiality and kindness as if he had been a young brother. Frank regretted now that he had not even more strongly urged his doubts as to the expediency of the expedition, though he felt that, even had he done so, his remonstrances would have been unavailing, so convinced were Rubini and Zippo of the sincerity and good faith of the woman. As it seemed, in this respect they had been right, and he had not pressed more strongly upon them the probability of her being followed when she left the brigands after the murder of her husband. It was so natural a thing that this should be so, that he wondered it had not struck him at once. Had he urged the point, Rubini might have listened to him, and his fatal expedition might not have taken place.

It seemed to him a heartbreaking affair, and as he ran he wiped away more than one tear that ran down his cheeks. After keeping on at the same speed for three or four miles, Frank heard, by the hard breathing of his companions, that their powers were failing; he himself was running quite easily, his school training being of good service to him, and after the long runs at hare and hounds across country, four miles down hill was a trifle to him. He had, too, the advantage of not having to carry a musket and ammunition.

“We had better walk for a few hundred yards and get our breath again,” he said. And the order was thankfully obeyed.

“Are you ready to trot on?” he asked, five minutes later; and on a general assent being given, they again broke into a run.

The more he thought of it, the more persuaded Frank was that no pursuit would be set on foot. Doubtless, the first step of the brigands would be to surround the church, and to place strong parties at both doors; they would therefore know that the church must have been deserted for at least half an hour before they obtained an entry, while possibly it might have been two or three hours before; so on finding the place empty their impulse would be to go to the wine-shops and celebrate their victory, rather than to start upon a pursuit which offered small prospects indeed of success. Every few minutes they halted for a moment to listen for the sound of pursuing feet, but everything was still and quiet; and so confident did they become as to their safety, that the last three or four miles down into Bronte were performed at a walk.

“I must go and report to Bixio,” Frank said, as they entered the town. “You had better find a shelter somewhere.”

“There is no occasion for that,” Maffio replied. “The sky has been getting lighter for some little time, and it must be nearly five o’clock. It was past two when we started.”

“I will wait for another half-hour,” Frank said, “before I rouse Bixio; he is always out by six, and bad news will keep.”

Shortly before that hour he went to the general’s quarters. The house was already astir.

“The general will be down in a few minutes, captain,” an orderly said. “I called him a quarter of an hour ago.”

In two or three minutes Bixio came down.

“Have you any news?” he asked hastily, when he saw Frank, whose downcast face struck him at once.

“Yes, general; and very bad news.”

“Come in here,” Bixio said, opening the door of a sitting-room. “Now, what is it?”

“I grieve to have to report, sir, that I have arrived here with only Sarto, Maffio, and three other men of the detachment, and that I fear Captain Rubini and the whole of the rest of the men have been killed.”

Bixio started. “All killed!” he repeated, almost incredulously. “I trust that you are mistaken. What has happened?”

Frank briefly related the circumstances.

“This is sad indeed – terrible,” the general said, when he had brought his story to a conclusion. “Rubini’s loss is a grievous one; he was a good officer, and was greatly liked and trusted by us all; there were good men, too, among his company. He had fifteen men of the thousand among them. And you say this woman did not betray them?”

“No; the men I overheard, distinctly said that she was a traitress, and as soon as she was missed by them she was followed, and her meeting with the officer observed.”

“But what took you out beyond the village, Captain Percival? You have told me the main facts of this most unfortunate expedition: please give me the full details of what you did after they had left, and how you came to escape.”

“I felt uneasy from the first,” Frank said. “Directly Rubini told me about the woman, I suggested that she might be merely acting a part, in order to lead them into an ambuscade; but both Rubini and Zippo, who was with him when he met her, were absolutely convinced of her good faith.

“I also suggested that, even if they were right, the woman might possibly have been followed. Her disappearance after the murder of her husband would be almost certain to excite suspicion that she intended to avenge herself by bringing our detachment down upon them. I communicated this suspicion to Sarto and Maffio, and we at once set to work to make the church defensible.”

He then related in detail the measures they had taken, and how he became convinced, by the sound of the distant conflict, that Rubini and his party had fallen into the ambuscade and been destroyed.

“For some time I could not make up my mind what course to adopt, sir: we might have defended the tower for two or three days; but it was by no means certain – in fact, it was very improbable – that anything of what was going on would reach your ears. On the other hand, I could not withdraw my little party, as, even if my worst suspicions were correct, some of Rubini’s men might have escaped and might make their way back to the church.” He then proceeded to explain the plan he had adopted, and how it had been carried out. “I do not know whether I have acted rightly,” he concluded. “It was a terrible responsibility, but I can only say that I consulted with Sarto and Maffio, who have had far more experience than I, and that they both approved of my plan. I hope, general, you do not think that I was wrong.”

“Certainly not – certainly not. Your position was a most difficult one, and your preparations for defence were excellent; the alternatives that you had to choose between when you became convinced that Rubini had been defeated were equally painful. If you stayed and defended the place, I may almost say you would have thrown away the lives of yourself and the five men with you. If you went, any wounded men straggling back from the forest would have found neither friends nor refuge. The middle course you adopted was admirable. You would at once have saved any poor fellows who might arrive, while you ensured the safety of your little party. By illuminating the church you secured for yourself a long start; and by going out so as to overhear the conversation of the first party of brigands who entered the village, you were able to assure yourself that it was useless staying longer in hopes of any survivors of the expedition coming in.

“I have received a message from Garibaldi, ordering me to move to Taormina, on the sea-coast. He has defeated Bosco at Milazzo; and the Neapolitan general and his troops have been permitted to take ship for Naples. He said that if I had not concluded my work here I could remain for another week, as it would probably be a considerable time before the preparations made for invading Calabria were completed. I was intending to send off some messengers this morning to recall all the outlying detachments. That I shall do still; but I shall certainly remain here three or four days longer, in the hope that some of Rubini’s party may have escaped. If I thought there was the smallest chance of laying hands on this scoundrel Prato and his band, I would march with a couple of hundred men into the mountains. But we may be sure that he did not stop more than an hour or two at the village, after he learned that your party had escaped; and by to-morrow morning they may be fifty miles away, on the other side of Etna. However, as soon as our affair is over, I shall urge upon Garibaldi the necessity for sending a strong force into the mountains to put down brigandage, and especially to destroy Prato’s band.”

The disaster that had befallen Rubini’s column cast a great gloom over the brigade: not a man but would gladly have undergone any amount of fatigue to avenge his comrades; but all felt the impossibility of searching the great tract of forest which extended over the larger part of the slopes of Etna. Bixio however, determined to send off a strong party to find and bury the dead, and two hours later a detachment a hundred strong left Bronte. Their orders were to attack the brigands if they found them in the village; if they had left, however, they were not to pursue. They were to sleep there, and in the morning to compel two or three of the villagers to guide them to the scene of conflict, where they were to find and bury the dead. Every precaution was to be observed, although it was regarded as certain that the brigands would not have remained so near the village, but would only stop there a few hours, and then place as great a distance as possible between it and them.

Frank had offered to accompany the party, but Bixio refused to allow him to do so.

“You have had a sleepless night, and the anxiety you have suffered is quite sufficient excitement for a convalescent. You could do no good by going there, and had best lie down and take a few hours’ sleep.”

Before the party started Frank asked the captain in command to see if his horse had been carried off. “It was in a shed adjoining the priest’s house,” he said; “and it may still be there. The brigands would not be likely to make many inquiries; and when they discovered that we had gone, probably made off directly they had eaten their supper; for had we, as might have been the case so far as they knew, started for Bronte soon after Rubini left, it would have been possible for reinforcements to reach the village within an hour of daybreak. Even if one of the villagers told them that the horse was there – which is not likely, for the whole place must have been in a ferment at the news – the brigands may not have cared to carry it off, as it would be useless to them in a journey over ground covered with forest and broken up by ravines and gorges.”

The detachment returned two days later, bringing with it, to Frank’s satisfaction, his horse and saddlery. They had been to the scene of the conflict, and had found and buried all the bodies with the exception of a few, who must either have escaped or have been killed at a considerable distance from the spot where they were attacked. The brigands had, as Frank had expected, left the village before daybreak. They had on arriving opened fire at the windows of the church; and a quarter of an hour later, finding that no reply was made, had endeavoured to force an entry. The great door, however, had defied their efforts, and when at last they obtained access by breaking in the door of the vestry, more than an hour had been wasted. The discovery that the church was untenanted had greatly disappointed and disquieted them, and after carousing for a short time they hastily left.

Early on the day after the return of Frank and his comrades, one of the missing party reached the town: he was utterly worn out and broken down, having apparently wandered for thirty-six hours in the forest in a state of semi-delirium. He had at last quite accidentally stumbled upon a small village, and after being fed and cared for, had been brought down to Bronte in a cart. He was, he said, convinced that he was the only survivor of the fight. The party had arrived within, as they believed, a quarter of a mile of the brigands’ lurking-place, when a whistle was heard, and from the trees on both sides of the narrow path a volley was fired, and half at least of the party dropped. Rubini, he believed, was among those who fell; at least he did not hear his voice afterwards. Zippo had rallied the men, who, gathering together, endeavoured to fight their way through their assailants.

What the effect of their fire was, he could not tell, but his comrades dropped fast, and when there were but a few left, they threw down their muskets and rushed headlong into the forest. They scattered in various directions, but were hotly pursued; several shots were fired at him, but they all missed. After running for half an hour he flung himself down in a clump of undergrowth. He had heard, as he ran, other shots, and had no doubt that his companions were all killed. He lay where he was until morning, and then tried to find his way down to Bronte, but he had no distinct recollection of what had happened after he left the bushes, until he found that wine was being poured down his throat, and that he was surrounded by a group of pitying women.

The fury of the Garibaldians, on their arrival from the various villages at which they had been posted, when they heard of the slaughter of their friends, was extreme; and many of the officers begged the general to allow them to make one effort to find and punish the brigands, but Bixio refused.

“We have a far greater business on our hands,” he said. “Italy has to be freed. The first blow has been struck, and must be followed up at once; brigandage can wait – it is an old sore, a disgrace to a civilised country; but Italy once freed, this can be taken in hand. We might spend weeks, or even months, before we could lay hands on Prato’s band; the villagers and woodmen would keep them informed of every movement we made, while not only should we gain no information, but all would be interested in putting us upon the wrong track. It is not to be thought of. Moreover, I have Garibaldi’s orders to march to Taormina, and if we had lost five hundred men instead of fifty, I should obey that order, much as I should regret being obliged to march away and leave the massacre unavenged.”

The day after the fugitive had arrived, the force left Bronte. The mountainous nature of the country to the north prevented a direct march towards Taormina. They therefore took the road round the foot of Etna, through Bandazza to Gairre, which lay nearly due east of Bronte, and then followed the line along the coast to Taormina. Here the troops were halted, while Bixio, with Frank and a small escort, rode on to Messina, as the general wished to confer with Garibaldi, and to ascertain how the preparations for the invasion of Calabria were proceeding.

CHAPTER XIII.

ACROSS THE STRAITS

GARIBALDI had, on entering Messina, been received with tremendous enthusiasm, and at once, while waiting for the reinforcements now pouring in, set himself to work to improve the condition of affairs in the town. He had taken up his abode in the royal palace, where he retained all the servants of the former viceroy, considering that it would be unjust to dismiss them. He ordered, however, that his own dinner was to consist only of some soup, a plate of meat, and some vegetables. The large subscriptions that flowed in from Italy and other countries were entirely devoted to public service, as had been the money taken in the treasury at Palermo; the general allowed himself only, as pay, eight francs a day, and this was always spent before breakfast; for although at Messina, as at Palermo, he endeavoured to clear the streets of beggars, he himself was never able to resist an appeal, and no sooner had he sauntered out in the morning than his eight francs melted away among the children and infirm persons who flocked round him.

He received Frank on his arrival with real pleasure, and congratulated him upon having so completely recovered from the effects of his wound.

“There is plenty for you to do,” he said; “almost every hour ships bring me volunteers from all parts. Arrangements have to be made for bestowing and feeding these. We found a considerable supply of tents here, but they are now occupied, and all arrivals henceforth will have to be quartered on the citizens or in the villages near the town. A list will be given to you, every morning, of persons who are willing to receive them, and a mark will be made against the names of those of a better sort, among whom the officers will be quartered. I beg that you will act in concert with Concini and Peruzzi, and as the troops land give them their billets, and in the case of officers conduct them to the houses where they are to be lodged. Of course you yourself will take up your abode here; there is an abundance of room, and I will order the servants to set aside a comfortable chamber for you. All who are in the palace take their early breakfast here, the rest of their meals they take in the town. I have enemies enough, and I do not wish it to be said that we are spending the funds so generously subscribed for us in feasting in the palace. In the evening, you know, you will always be welcome here.”

It was, of course, too late in the day for Frank’s work to begin; but later on he again went to the room where Garibaldi was chatting with several of his staff.

“Bixio has been telling me of your adventure,” Garibaldi said: “it was a sad business. The death of Rubini is a grievous loss to me. He fought most gallantly in the Alps, and distinguished himself greatly since we landed here; he was a true patriot, and I shall miss him sorely. Others there were who died with him, whom I also greatly regret. The one redeeming point in the affair is, as Bixio has been telling me, the admirable way in which you succeeded in saving the little party of whom you were in command. He has detailed the matter in full to me, and the oldest head could not have made better preparations for defence, or better hit upon a plan by which you might at once save any stragglers of Rubini’s detachment who might return, and at the same time ensure the safety of the five men with you. There will be a steamer going to Marseilles in the morning, and it will be a pleasure to me to again write to your mother, saying how well you have done, and how completely you have recovered from your wound. The last time I wrote, although I had as warm a praise to give of your conduct, I abstained from telling her that you were seriously wounded. No doubt you would give her full particulars in your own letters.”