by G. A. Henty
“It is evident,” he said to Giuseppi, “that we can hardly hope to succeed in passing the boats at the entrance to the canal seaward, or by going up the lagoon. The only plan that I can see is for us to land on the island of Pelestrina, which is held by us, to carry the boat across it, and to embark in the Malamocco channel. In this way, we should be within their cordon of boats, and can row fearlessly either out to the entrances, or to Chioggia itself. We are not likely to be detected, and if we are, we must make a race of it to Pelestrina.”
The gondolier agreed that the scheme was practicable, and Francis ordered Giuseppi and him to remove the burdens, and every bit of wood that could be dispensed with from the gondola, so as to facilitate its transport.
CHAPTER 19
The Siege of Chioggia
Late in the afternoon, Francis embarked in his gondola, and in an hour and a half landed at Pelestrina. He was well known, to those posted there, as the bearer of Pisani’s orders, and as soon as it became dark, Rufino Giustiniani, who was in command, ordered a dozen men to carry the light gondola across the island to the Malamocco channel. While this was being done, Francis went to Rufino’s tent, and informed him of what was going on in Venice, and that the whole fleet would set sail on the morrow.
“We heard rumours, from the men who brought our rations, that it was to be so,” Rufino said; “but we have heard the same story a dozen times. So, now, it is really true! But what can the admiral be thinking of! Sure he can’t intend to attack Doria with this newly-manned fleet and rabble army. He could not hope for victory against such odds!”
“The admiral’s intentions are kept a profound secret,” Francis said, “and are only known to the doge and the Council of Ten.”
“And to yourself,” Rufino said laughing.
“The admiral is good enough to honour me with his fullest confidence,” Francis said; “and in this matter, it is so important that the nature of the design should be kept wholly secret, that I cannot tell it even to you!”
“You are quite right, Francisco; nor do I wish to know it, though I would wager that Maria, and her pretty sister, have some inkling of what is going on.”
Francis laughed.
“The signoras are good enough to treat me as a brother,” he said, “and I will not affirm that they have not obtained some slight information.”
“I will warrant they have!” Rufino said. “When my wife has made up her mind to get to the bottom of a matter, she will tease and coax till she succeeds.
“Ah, here is Matteo! he has been out posting the sentries for the night.”
The two friends had not indulged in a talk for some weeks, though they had occasionally met when Francis paid one of his flying visits to the island.
“I have just seen your boat being carried along,” Matteo said, as he entered the tent. “I could not think what it was till I got close; but of course, when I saw Giuseppi, I knew all about it. What are you going to do—scout among the Genoese?”
“I am going to find out as much as I can,” Francis said.
“It’s a capital idea your bringing the boat across the island,” Matteo said. “You are always full of good ideas, Francis. I can’t make it out. They never seem to occur to me, and at the present time, especially, the only ideas that come into my mind are as to the comfortable meals I will eat, when this business is over. I never thought I cared much for eating before, but since I have had nothing but bread—and not enough of that—and an occasional fish, I have discovered that I am really fond of good living. My bones ache perpetually with lying on the bare ground, and if I escape from this, without being a cripple for life from rheumatism, I shall consider myself lucky, indeed. You are a fortunate fellow, Francisco; spending your time in the admiral’s comfortable palace, or flying about in a smooth-rowing gondola!”
“That is one side of the question certainly,” Francis said, laughing; “but there is a good deal of hard work, too, in the way of writing.”
“I should not like that,” Matteo said. “Still, I think you have the best of it. If the Genoese would come sometimes, and try and drive us off the island, there would be some excitement. But, except when the admiral wishes a reconnaissance, or Barberigo’s galleys come down and stir them up, there is really nothing doing here.”
“That ought to suit you exactly, Matteo, for never but once did I hear you say you wanted to do anything.”
“When was that?” Rufino asked, laughing.
“Matteo conceived a violent desire to climb Mount Etna,” Francis said, “and it needed all my arguments to prevent his leaving the ship at Girgenti, while she was loading, and starting to make the ascent.”
“He would have repented before he had gone a quarter of the way up,” Rufino said.
“I might have repented,” Matteo replied stoutly, “but I would have done it, if I had begun. You don’t know me yet, Rufino. I have a large store of energy, only at present I have had no opportunity of showing what I am made of.
“And now, how do you intend to proceed, Francisco? Have you any plan?”
“None at all,” Francis replied. “I simply want to assure myself that the galleys are all in their usual places, and that the Genoese are making no special preparations against our coming.”
“I have seen no unusual stir,” Rufino said. “Their ships, as far as one can see their masts, seem all in their usual position. I fancy that, since Barberigo carried off two of them, they have put booms across the channels to prevent sudden attacks. I saw a lot of rowboats busy about something, but I could not make out exactly what they were doing; but still, I fancy they were constructing a boom. Their galleys keep a sharp lookout at night, and you certainly would not have succeeded in passing them, had you not hit upon this plan of carrying your boat over.
“Your greatest danger will be at first. When once you have fairly entered the inner canals, you are not likely to be suspected of being an enemy. They will take you for Chioggian fishermen late. We often make out their returning boats near the town. No doubt Doria is fond of fresh fish. Otherwise you would be detected, for the Genoese boats are, of course, quite different to ours, and even in the dark they would make out that you belonged to the lagoons.
“Ah, here is supper! It is not often that I should have anything to offer you, but one of my men managed to catch three or four fish today, and sold them to me at about their weight in silver. However, I have some good wine from my own cellars, and a man who has good wine, fish, and bread can do royally, whatever this grumbling brother of mine may say.”
Half an hour later, a soldier brought the news that the gondola was in the water, and Francis bade adieu to his friends, and started at once.
“Row slowly and quietly,” he said, as he took his seat. “Do not let your oars make the slightest splash in the water, until we are well across to the opposite shore. They may have a guard boat lying in the channel.”
The light craft made her way noiselessly across the water. Once or twice they heard the sound of oars, as some Genoese galley passed up or down, but none came near enough to perceive them, and they crossed the main channel, and entered one of the numerous passages practicable only for boats of very light draught, without being once hailed. A broad shallow tract of water was now crossed, passable only by craft drawing but a few inches of water; then again they were in a deeper channel, and the lights of Chioggia rose but a short distance ahead.
They paused and listened, now, for they were nearing the ship channel, and here the enemy would, if anywhere, be on the alert. Coming across the water they could hear the sound of voices, and the dull noise made by the movement of men in a boat.
“Those are the galleys watching the boom, I expect,” Francis said.
“Now, Philippo, we can move on. I suppose there is plenty of water, across the flats, for us to get into the channel without going near the boom.”
“Plenty for us, signor; but if the boom goes right across the channel, heavy rowboats would not be able to pass. There ar
e few shallower places in the lagoons than just about here. It may be that in one or two places even we might touch, but if we do, the bottom is firm enough for us to get out and float the boat over.”
But they did not touch any shoal sufficiently shallow to necessitate this. Several times Francis could feel, by the dragging pace, that she was touching the oozy bottom; but each time she passed over without coming to a standstill. At last Philippo said:
“We are in the deep channel now, signor. The boom is right astern of us. The town is only a few hundred yards ahead.”
“Then we shall be passing the Genoese galleys, directly,” Francis said. “Row slowly as we go, and splash sometimes with the oars. If we go quickly and noiselessly past, they might possibly suspect something, but if we row without an attempt at concealment, they will take us for a fisherman’s boat.”
Soon the dark mass of Genoese ships, with their forests of masts, rose before them. There were lights in the cabins, and a buzz of talking, laughing, and singing among the crews on board.
“What luck today?” a sailor asked them as they rowed past, twenty or thirty yards from the side of one of the ships.
“Very poor,” Giuseppi replied. “I think your ships, and the boats lying about, and the firing, have frightened the fish away from this end of the lagoons.”
It was half a mile before they passed the last of the crowd of vessels.
“Would you like me to land here, signor?” Philippo said. “There would be no danger in my doing so. I can make my way, through the streets, to the house of some of my relatives, and find out from them whether there are any fresh movements among the Genoese. I will not enter any house; for aught I know there are soldiers quartered everywhere; but I am sure not to go many yards before I run against someone I know.”
“I think it will be a very good plan, Philippo. We will lie under the bank here, and wait your return.”
It was not more than twenty minutes before the gondolier was back.
“I have spoken to three men I know, signor. They are agreed that there are no movements among the enemy, and no one seems to have an idea that the Venetians are about to put to sea. Of course, I was cautious not to let drop a word on the subject, and only said we had managed to get through the enemy’s cordon to learn the latest news, and I expected to earn a ducat or two by my night’s work.”
“That is excellent,” Francis said. “Now, we will row out to the sea mouths of the channels, to assure ourselves that no ships are lying on guard there, for some are going in or out every day to cruise along the coast. A few may have taken up their station there, without attracting notice among the townspeople.”
The opening of the passage known as the Canal of Lombardy was first visited. To gain this, they had to retrace their steps for some distance, and to row through the town of Chioggia, passing several boats and galleys, but without attracting notice. They found the mouth of the canal entirely unguarded, and then returned and rowed out to the mouth of the Brondolo passage. Some blazing fires on the shore showed that there were parties of soldiers here, but no ships were lying anywhere in the channel.
After some consultation they determined that, as no watch seemed to be kept, it would be shorter to row on outside the islands, and to enter by the third passage to be examined, that between Pelestrina and Brondolo. Here, however, the Genoese were more on the alert, as the Pelestrina shore was held by the Venetians. Scarcely had they entered the channel, when a large rowboat shot out from the shadow of the shore and hailed them.
“Stop rowing in that boat! Who are you that are entering so late?”
“Fishermen,” Philippo shouted back, but without stopping rowing.
“Stop!” shouted the officer, “till we examine you! It is forbidden to enter the channel after dark.”
But the gondoliers rowed steadily on, until ahead of the boat coming out. This fell into their wake, and its angry officer shouted threats against the fugitives, and exhorted his men to row their hardest.
“There are two more boats ahead, signor. They are lying on their oars to cut us off. One is a good deal further out than the other, and I don’t think we shall gain Pelestrina.”
“Then make for the Brondolo shore till we have passed them,” Francis said.
The boat whirled off her course, and made towards the shore. The Genoese galleys ahead at once made towards them; but in spite of the numerous oars they pulled, the craft could not keep up with the racing gondola, and it crossed ahead of them. In another five minutes’ rowing, the three galleys were well astern, and the gondola again made out from the shore, her head pointing obliquely towards Pelestrina. The galleys were now fifty yards behind, and although their crews rowed their hardest, the gondola gradually gained upon them, and crossing their bows made over towards Pelestrina.
“We are out of the channel now,” Philippo said, “and there will not be water enough for them to follow us much further.”
A minute or two later a sudden shout proclaimed that the nearest of their pursuers had touched the ground.
“We can take it easy now,” Giuseppi said, “and I am not sorry, for we could not have rowed harder if we had been racing.”
A few minutes later, the light craft touched the mud a few yards distant from the shore.
“Is that you, Francisco?” a voice, which Francis recognized as Matteo’s, asked.
“All right, Matteo!” he replied. “No one hurt this time.”
“I have been on the lookout for you the last hour. I have got a body of my men here, in case you were chased. We heard the shouting and guessed it was you.”
“If you have got some men there, Matteo, there is a chance for you to take a prize. A galley rowing twelve or fourteen oars is in the mud, a few hundred yards out. She was chasing us, and ran aground when at full speed, and I imagine they will have some trouble in getting her off. I suppose she draws a couple of feet of water. There! Don’t you hear the hubbub they are making?”
“I hear them,” Matteo said.
“Come along, lads. The night is cold, and I don’t suppose the water is any warmer, but a skirmish will heat our blood.”
Matteo, followed by a company of some forty men, at once entered the water, and made in the direction of the sounds. Five minutes later, Francis heard shouts and a clashing of weapons suddenly break out. It lasted but a short time. Matteo and his band soon returned with the prisoners.
“What! Have you waited, Francisco? I thought you would be on the other side of the island by this time.”
“I was in no particular hurry, Matteo; and besides, I want my boat; and although two men can lift her easily enough, she would be a heavy weight to carry so far.”
“You shall have a dozen, Francisco. It is owing to you we have taken these prisoners, and that I have had my first bit of excitement since I came out here.
“Sergeant, here are a couple of ducats. When you have given the prisoners into safe custody, spend the money in wine for the company.
“The water is bitterly cold, I can tell you, Francisco; but otherwise I am warm enough, for one’s feet stick to the mud, and it seems, each step, as if one had fifty pounds of lead on one’s shoes. But come along to my brother’s tent at once. Your feet must be cold, too, though the water was only a few inches deep where you got out of your boat. A glass of hot wine will do us both good; and it will be an hour before your boat is in the water again. Indeed, I don’t see the use of your starting before daybreak.”
“Nor do I, Matteo; but I must go, nevertheless. Pisani knows how long it will take me to get to Chioggia and return. He will allow an hour or two for me to reconnoitre, and will then be expecting me back. As it is, I shall be two hours after the time when he will be expecting me, for he knows nothing about the boat being carried across this island, and will make no allowance for that. Moreover, Polani and his daughters will be anxious about me.”
“Oh, you flatter yourself they will be lying awake for you,” Matteo said, laughing. “Thinking over your
dangers! Well, there’s nothing like having a good idea of one’s self.”
Francis joined in the laugh.
“It does sound rather conceited, Matteo; but I know they will be anxious. They took up the idea it was a dangerous service I was going on, and I have no doubt they fidgeted over it. Women are always fancying things, you know.”
“I don’t know anyone who fidgets about me,” Matteo said; “but then, you see, I am not a rescuer of damsels in distress, nor have I received the thanks of the republic for gallant actions.”
“Well, you ought to have done,” Francis replied. “You had just as much to do with that fight on board Pisani’s galley as I had, only it happened I was in command.
“Oh, there is your brother’s tent! I see there is a light burning, so I suppose he has not gone to bed yet.”
“All the better,” Matteo said. “We shall get our hot wine all the quicker. My teeth are chattering so, I hardly dare speak for fear of biting my tongue.”
Francis was warmly welcomed by Rufino Giustiniani.
“I need hardly ask you if you have succeeded in reconnoitring their positions, for I know you would not come back before morning had you not carried out your orders.
“Why, Matteo, what have you been doing—wading in the mud, apparently? Why, you are wet up to the waist.”
“We have captured an officer, and fourteen men, Rufino. They will be here in a few minutes. Their boat got stuck fast while it was chasing Francisco; so we waded out and took them. They made some resistance, but beyond a few slashes, and two or three thumps from their oars, no harm was done.”
“That is right, Matteo. I am glad you have had a skirmish with them at last. Now go in and change your things. I shall have you on my hands with rheumatism.”
“I will do that at once, and I hope you will have some hot spiced wine ready, by the time I have changed, for I am nearly frozen.”
The embers of a fire, outside the tent, were soon stirred together, and in a few minutes the wine was prepared. In the meantime, Francis had been telling Rufino the incidents of his trip. In half an hour, the message came that the gondola was again in the water, and Francis was soon on his way back to the city.
