Part 10 (2/2)
The padre had a consoling word for all, and appeared to be well acquainted with the various languages in which they spoke.
Approaching Francisco and his son he walked beside them.
”Thou hast arrived but recently, methinks?” he said in a tone of commiseration, ”and hast suffered much already.”
”Ay, we have suffered somewhat,” replied Francisco in an off-hand tone, not feeling much inclined to be communicative just then.
In a few minutes, however, Giovanni had ingratiated himself with the Sicilians to such an extent that they had related all their sad history to him, and already began to feel as if he were an old friend, before they had traversed the half-mile that lay between their nightly prison and the harbour.
Arrived at their place of toil--the artificial neck connecting the little light-house island with the mainland,--Mariano was ordered to convey large ma.s.ses of stone for the supply of a gang of slaves who were building a new face to the breakwater, while his father was harnessed, with another gang, to the cart that conveyed the stones to their destination along a temporary tramway.
The severity of the labour consisted chiefly in the intense heat under which it was performed, and in the unremitting nature of it. It must not be imagined, however, that there was not a single touch of humanity in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the cruel slave-drivers. Hard task-masters though they undoubtedly were, some of them were wont to turn aside and look another way when any of the poor slaves sat down for a few minutes, overcome with exhaustion.
There was little opportunity allowed, however, for intercourse among the unfortunates. One or two who, judging from their faces, showed sympathetic leanings towards each other, were immediately observed and separated. This had the effect of hardening some, while it drove others to despair.
One of those whose spirit seemed to vacillate between despair and ferocity was the young man already referred to as being an inhabitant of Francisco's part of the Bagnio. He was a Portuguese, named Castello.
In carrying the stones to and fro, he and Mariano had to pa.s.s each other regularly every three or four minutes. The latter observed, after a time, that Castello glanced at him with peculiar intelligence. At first he was puzzled, but on next pa.s.sing him he determined to give him a similar look. He did so. Next time that Castello pa.s.sed he said, in a low tone, without looking up, and without in the least checking his pace--
”Better to die than this!”
Mariano was taken by surprise, and at first made no reply, for he recalled the man's advice of the previous night, but, on pa.s.sing the Portuguese again, he said, in the same low tone--
”Yes, much better!”
Curious to know what was meant by this--for the tones and glances of Castello were emphatic--Mariano kept on the alert as he repa.s.sed his comrade, expecting more. He was not disappointed, though the nature of the communication tended to increase his surprise.
”Fall and hurt yourself,” whispered Castello, and pa.s.sed on.
Much perplexed, Mariano tried to conceive some reason for such a strange order, but failed. He was, however, one of those rare spirits who have the capacity, in certain circ.u.mstances, to sink themselves--not blindly, but intelligently--and place implicit confidence in others. Hastily reviewing the _pros_ and _cons_ while laying his stone on the breakwater, and feeling a.s.sured that no great harm could possibly come of compliance, he gave a nod to his comrade in pa.s.sing.
”I want to speak to you,” muttered Castello briefly.
At once the reason flashed on Mariano's mind. The delay consequent on the fall would afford opportunity for a few more sentences than it was possible to utter in pa.s.sing.
On returning, therefore, with a huge stone on his shoulder, just as he pa.s.sed his friend he fell with an admirable crash, and lay stunned on the ground.
Castello instantly kneeled by his side and raised his head.
”Ten of us,” he said quickly, ”intend to make a dash for the Bab-el-Oued gate on the way back to-night: join us. It's neck or nothing.”
”I will, if my father agrees,” said Mariano, still lying with closed eyes--unconscious!
”If he does, pull your hat on one side of your head as you--” A tremendous lash from a whip cut short the sentence, and caused Castello to spring up. ”Rise, you dog!” cried the Turk who had bestowed it; ”are Christians so delicate that they need to be nursed for every fall?”
Castello hurried back to his work without a word of reply, and Mariano, opportunely recovering, with a view to avoid a similar cut, staggered on with his stone; but the Turk quickened his movements by a sharp flip on the shoulder, which cut a hole in his s.h.i.+rt, and left a bright mark on his skin.
For one moment the gush of the old fierce spirit almost overcame the poor youth, but sudden reflection and certain tender sensations about the soles of his feet came to his aid, in time to prevent a catastrophe.
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