Childish Loves (42 page)

In less than an hour, the vessel in chase neared us, and we dashed out again (showing our stern) and got in before night to Dragomestre. There we were welcomed by the Primates and officers of the town, who invited me into their several homes, each praising the excellence of his cook; but I preferred to stay on board, where I generally sleep very well, and my diet in any case is not various. A boiled potato, well-soaked in vinegar, or failing that, a little ship's biscuit and hard cheese, for I had got fatter again in Metaxata, on indecision, and mean to grow slim.

We stayed two nights in Dragomestre, for the wind was against us. The weather has turned wintry in the new year, and the rocks along the coast send up a fine cold spray. On the second day, three gunboats arrived from Missolonghi, which had been sent by Prince Mavrocordatos by way of convoy. (The mistico was practically undefended. We had taken with us only a few small arms. Whatever munitions we possessed were in the bombard with Pietro.) Lukas was in one of the gunboats. I was both glad and sorry to see him, as the danger was by no means past; but, after all, he is a brave child and shows a proper sense of duty to his
benefactor
. On the third day, the wind had turned sufficiently to allow us to progress into the straits, where we were twice driven on to the rocks at Scrofes (the sea being considerably fiercer than a few days previously, and the waves churning around us in such an ecstasy, that the spray reached a patch of sail
three feet
above my head). To Fletcher, who has a horror of drowning, I gave up my bunk and slept on deck, which enabled me to take this measurement. We were in constant danger, not only of splitting against the rocks, but of foundering in the open sea. I asked Lukas, who was on deck with me and observing very coolly the chaos of wind and wave, whether he could swim. He replied in the negative, but I assured him not to mind this, as I was an excellent swimmer and capable of saving both myself and him; for though the water was rough, the shore was not very distant. Meanwhile, we kept a look-out for the Turkish ships, but they had lost patience or tired of striving with the wind, and we reached at last the quiet of the lagoon outside Missolonghi.

I was in very good spirits throughout (as I love
necessity
) though a little
obscured
by five days and nights without ablution or change of clothes. The shortest way to kill fleas is to strip and take a swim, which is what I did. At Argostoli, I had ordered a scarlet coat, cut square on top and short below, in the naval manner, with golden epaulettes, as these suited the plume of Aspe's helmet – which however I had not got with me, as Pietro had taken it in the bombard. But I put on the coat and around eleven o'clock – on a cool unsettled morning, with the sea calmer, but the clouds being driven through a blue sky – we made our first appearance at Missolonghi. The inhabitants had gathered to greet us: Prince Mavrocordatos, Colonel Stanhope, Dr Missingen, etc. beside several other officers and citizens of the town, together with soldiers, priests, banditti, women and children, arranged in two rows, all screaming or singing, while we stepped ashore and the canons at a nearby fort fired off a
royal
salute.

*

Pietro was there, too; I was very relieved to see him. It appears he has had an escape no less miraculous than our own. The bombard succumbed to capture, and though Pietro had taken the precaution of loading all my letters in a sack, together with a five-pound shot, and dropping it overboard, there was nevertheless sufficient evidence of our preparations – shot, cannons, helmets, press, etc. – to convict them of war-like intentions. In fact, the Turkish commander was on the point of ordering the execution of the bombard's master, and the sinking of his boat, when he recognized Pietro, who had saved him once from shipwreck (with a half-dozen Turks) in the Black Sea a few years ago. After which they were treated very handsomely. Pietro was invited on board, to share a bottle of rum with him, and they were dispatched unmolested to Missolonghi.

We were taken directly to the house prepared for me, which sits on stilts on a narrow spit of land protruding into the lagoon; with a view on one side of the water, and on the other, of outhouses, stables, sties. It is a low damp dispiriting town, which I had visited once before, with Hobhouse fifteen years ago, and time and war have not improved it. There are a few government buildings, arranged around the landing, and then a scattering of huts and some more substantial dwellings further inland. Even in winter, the air is bad and dank as a cellar. But we have been given the finest private house, or at least, the tallest, which amounts to the same thing; and my rooms are on the second floor, with a view of the sea and dimly beyond it (in that dim air) of the mountains of the Morea. (Stanhope has installed himself on the first.) When it rains for any length of time, the house becomes unapproachable on foot – even after a morning's drizzle; but it was dry on our arrival, and not more than three minutes' walk from the jetty.

This was my first meeting with Prince Mavrocordatos, who is ‘fair, fat and forty' (or looks it), and wears little round spectacles and a large moustache. Napier, who is a good judge of men, speaks highly of him, and my impressions were favourable. There is always an element of flattery, when I am introduced to a stranger, particularly if he is a Greek, and this obscures for a while his better and soberer qualities; but I believe, when once we have got through the dross, there will be a vein of ore. Stanhope was present, too; I was almost happy to see him. There was a great deal of excitement at the house, soldiers milling, civilians arguing, women cooking and shouting, but comparatively little furniture, so we sat on the floor, on cushions, around a little table, and made plans. I felt my old eagerness returning, which I had felt at Vathy, but this time better directed.

Our first object is Lepanto, which the Prince believes, with a small sacrifice of men and moneys, might be retaken. And what an object! to be a second Santa Cruz! An expedition of about two thousand men is planned for an attack. For reasons of policy with regard to the native
capitani
, the Prince suggested assigning the command to
me
. The artillery corps is made up of such fragments as might combine to form a second tower of Babel: there are German, English, American, Swiss, Swedish officers, all offering their services. There is no one else, the Prince said, who could unite such divergent loyalties. Besides, he does not want the nomination himself (which is considered no sinecure), and can think of nobody who will take it; and so the responsibility falls to me. I did not decline it, as I had just arrived and was tired in any case of hearing nothing but talk at Argostoli – of constitutions, and Sunday Schools and what not. All excellent things in their time and place, and
here
also, but not much use until we have the means, money, leisure and freedom to try the experiment.

In practical terms, I agreed to give a hundred pounds towards the artillery corps; and Stanhope has won from me another subscription to support his
press
, on the subject of which he is incapable of keeping silent for more than an afternoon. Well, we spent the afternoon together, and I promised him fifty pounds. It appears he has found a Swiss doctor, a Mr Meyer, to run it; another Benthamite. The first issue is expected in a couple of weeks.

At sundown the party broke up, as Lukas, who does not leave my side and was tired and hungry, began to chafe at his confinement; and it was determined that there was nothing to be decided today that could not be put off until the morning. We can in any case
do
nothing until the firemaster arrives, who has been sent by the Committee, and is expected daily with a supply of materials and men, for the manufacture of Congreve rockets and every other sort of incendiary fire. His name is Parry, and our future depends to a large extent on him and on the foresight of the Committee. He set out from England more than a month ago, on the
Ann
, but there have been unaccountable delays. The Prince has explained to me the state of our preparations: a few cannon, in very poor condition; almost no powder; a regiment of disunited foreigners, who speak no Greek and are (many of them) without the least experience of warfare, together with an equal rabble of native soldiers, who speak nothing else, and have no intention of fighting until they are paid.

I retired at last to bed with a good deal of mail (as we were expected much sooner), including several letters from Teresa. She writes very prettily and properly. I mean that the script is legible and correct, though her spelling even in Italian is often out. But her situation improves. Her father, in spite of promises made, was stopped outside Ravenna and sent to Ferrara, where he lies imprisoned. This I knew before, but Teresa, who has had nowhere to turn, has found someone to turn to. Her old tutor (a very clever and liberal man, by the name of Paolo Costa, with whom I was briefly acquainted) has given her a room in his house, in Bologna, and it is from there she writes, not very happily but at least resignedly. But she never pretends to be happy when I am not with her, and in this respect, one place to her is as good as another, so long as she is not
here
.

What a contradiction she is – or rather my love for her, for she is consistent enough (and not least towards me). But I have always maintained that I am the
easiest
of men to manage, and she had the art of it: which is, to let me do exactly as I please in the few matters on which I have an opinion, and in all other affairs to decide everything for herself. There is no other way to account for how I have spent the last four years of my life, except to say, that they went
smoothly
; although there were passages (at the time) which seemed to me sufficiently rough. In her last letter, which was dated Christmas Eve, she could not resist complaining of my neglect, so that I made a final effort, and before snuffing my candle, wrote her a short note to be included in a package from her brother. For the first time I have something to tell her of which I am not ashamed, and which in a measure justifies my decision to leave her. ‘It appears we may be really about to fight,' I began to write, when it struck me that this was
not
the news to relieve her anxiety, and that she cared after all very little for my justifications. So I contented myself with old assurances: that we are well, and that all here is well, and that I would write soon at greater length.

*

Lukas is no longer shy of me; that is, he begins to presume on my indulgence. The other morning I found him admiring a brace of pistols, which had been given me several years before by an American officer, on behalf of his ship and country, for which reason I had always valued them – as the respect of Americans means more to me, perhaps, than that of any other nation, since my rank counts for nothing with them, and they are not very practised dissemblers. What they admire, they admire
honestly
. Lukas told me he would like to have them ‘for himself. So I said, ‘This is what I suggest. We will go into the courtyard and set a bottle on the stable-wall. If you strike it at twenty paces with one of these pistols before I do (you may have the honour), I will give you the brace.'

He jumped up readily at this, and we went outside. It was a dry day and the courtyard was not muddy. I called through a window into the kitchen, asking for a bottle, and presently one was brought out. Then I set it on the wall and paced out twenty steps in the direction of the house (so as not to fire into it, but towards the lagoon); but Lukas protested that it was too far, and together we counted out twenty steps again, with my hand on his shoulder. Lukas fired first, but too quickly and closed his eyes a little against the smoke. There was only the sound of the gun, and no other, and afterwards the bottle was still standing on the wall.

‘The pistol is no good,' he said.

‘Well, I will show you what may be done with it.'

He watched me with one of his smiles (as my hand is not very steady), but after my shot rang out, there was another sound, and the bottle lay splintered in the mud.

‘No, no, it was the wind,' he said, still smiling.

‘Why do you say that?' (We spoke together mostly in Italian.)

‘Because your hand is like this,' he answered, holding up his own and allowing it to shake like a leaf. ‘Like an old man.'

‘I wonder how old you think I am. I was once as young as you.'

But he called for another bottle to be brought out and set it on the wall again and counted the steps. But he counted too few, and we stood a little closer. All this with an air as if he thought me easily made a fool of. I believe it never occurred to him that he would miss. But again he misfired into the wind, and my own first shot knocked the bottle into pieces.

‘The pistol is no good,' he repeated, but without a smile, and this time a little disgusted. ‘Otherwise I would not be beaten by an old man.'

‘I wonder how old you think I am,' I said again.

He looked me up and down, standing very straight and proud, as he always stands, and with his head a little to the side. After a minute: ‘At least thirty.'

‘You see, you have made me laugh, and for that you will get your desire. (It is the Italian phrase.) I will give you the pistols.'

‘No, no,' says he, ‘I would like something finer than that, something of my own. These pistols are no good.'

And, fool that I am (for I could never resist an appeal), I asked Pietro that afternoon to have a pair made up, at any expense, with an inscription I would furnish later; but he came back to me (and this is what struck me truly as absurd) saying there was no one on the island capable of executing my commission, until Parry's arrival – this at a military base in the midst of its preparations against an
empire
. The best we could do (it was his own suggestion) was have an inscription added to a pair of guns already existing; and he offered to inquire of Prince Mavrocordatos if he knew where one was to be found. I was reluctant to involve the Prince in an affair that had, after all, no relation to our mission, especially as my position in Missolonghi depended to a certain extent on his continuing esteem. But it occurred to me at last that Lukas might easily be called to defend himself, and his
patron
, against attack, and that there could be nothing ridiculous in giving him the means to do so. The Prince replied, very handsomely, with a brace of unadorned but beautifully made weapons, which I had gilded for Lukas and inscribed with a couplet from Thomson: