The Pirate of the Mediterranean. W.h.g. Kingston

of danger. Not a person, however, who, passed him, escaped his scrutiny; and even when he appeared to stop carelessly, or for the sake of considering the way he was to take, he cast a hurried glance behind him to satisfy himself that no one was acting the spy on his movements. He had evidently seen enough to convince him that the vessel, in which he had come, was in bad odour, and he naturally concluded that her passengers would be narrowly watched. Of the crowds who passed, not a human being seemed to know him, and if he was in reality particularly observed, it was done so cleverly and so cautiously, that with all his ingenuity, he failed to discover whether such was the case or not. He had already traversed a number of streets – ascending several flights of steps and descending others – when, at the corner of a narrow lane, his eye fell on a squalid-looking beggar who was lustily calling on the passers-by, in the name of all the saints, to preserve him from starvation. A broad-brimmed hat with a crown similar to those worn by Italian bandits, but sadly battered and brown with age and dirt, was worn slouchingly on his head, so as almost to hide his features, which were further concealed by a handkerchief tied under his chin, and a black patch over one of his eyes. A tattered cloak, the cast-off finery of a dandy of the palmy days of the old Knights of Malta, covered his shoulders, as did, in part, his legs, a pair of blue cloth trousers, through which his knees obtruded, and which were fringed with torn stripes at the feet. Such of his features as were visible were as ill-favoured as well could be. His voice, too, had a peculiarly disagreeable tone, as in the lingua Franca of the Maltese mendicants he begged for alms.

      This interesting personage was supporting himself carelessly on a pair of crutches, while he rested on one foot, and stretched forth the palm of his right hand to grasp whatever might be put into it. The Greek stopped and put his hand into his pocket to draw out a piece of money, while he did so narrowly eyeing the beggar. The man’s voice changed instantly that he saw the stranger looking at him; from a half whining yet impudent tone, it began to sink and tremble with alarm, and finally he became perfectly mute and forgetful of his calling.

      “I thought you would know me,” said the Greek. “And you must remember I never forget those I have once seen either as friends or foes.”

      “No, signor, I perceive you do not,” replied the beggar, trembling with alarm. “Have mercy on me.”

      “That depends upon yourself,” said the stranger. “At present, you deserve no mercy at my hands; but I will now give you an opportunity of serving me; and if you do so faithfully, I will overlook the past.”

      “You are very generous, signor – you always were,” exclaimed the beggar, trying to fall down and embrace his knees, which the Greek prevented. “I will go to any part of the world. I will go through fire and water to serve you.”

      “You have not to go far to perform my directions; but I want faithfulness in the discharge of the duty I shall impose on you,” said the Greek, sternly. “And, mark me, Giacomo – if you play me false, as you have done others, I will find you out, and finish your worthless life with as little compunction as I would that of a rabid dog.”

      “Si, signor capitan, I very well know that you are not a man to be trifled with,” answered the beggar, bowing his head.

      “Tell me what you want, and by the Holy Virgin and all the saints in heaven I will perform the work faithfully.”

      “Your oath is superfluous, as you would break it for a copper-piece, so don’t insult me with it,” replied the Greek, scornfully. “But, listen: there is a certain Jew – Aaron Bannech by name – his office – his den – the place where he cheats, and robs, and lies, is beneath the Albergo – in the Strada. Do you hear?”

      “Si, signor, si, – I know the place – I know the man,” said the beggar, hastily.

      “You know him; it is well that you should – you are an admirable pair. He would sell his soul for a dollar, and would then try to cheat the devil out of it. You are a meaner knave. Half that sum would buy you. You both are useful to me, though. Hasten to him, and tell him that I am here. Say that he must clear out his den of visitors, clerks, or other prying knaves, and that I will be with him in half an hour. When you have done this, go down to the port, and learn what vessels are about to sail, shortly, for the eastward, with all particulars about them – their cargoes – armed force – and number of men – also what ships are expected to arrive shortly from the same quarter. Having gleaned this information, which you well know how to do, come up with it to the residence of the Jew. Listen, also, if anything is said about the Speronara Volante, from Syracuse, by which I arrived. Alessandro is her master – or, if any remarks are made respecting me. I am, probably, unnoticed; but it is as well to be cautious.”

      “I will strictly obey your directions, signor,” said the beggar. “Have you further orders?”

      “No – you may go. I have been talking to you too long already, and may have been observed.”

      “Rest assured of my fidelity,” said the beggar, hobbling off up the street on his crutches, at a far more rapid rate than he was generally wont to move.

      No sooner, however, had he got out of sight of the Greek, than he slackened his pace.

      “Now, I wonder what I should get by denouncing him to the authorities,” he muttered to himself. “They are stingy in rewarding informers though, and he, probably, will pay better; besides, as he says, he may get me hung by a word; and if I get him into trouble, some of his friends are certain to avenge him. After all, too, he would probably make his story good, and I should not be believed. You can never catch those Greeks asleep; their wit is so keen, and they twist, and turn, and double in such a manner, that if they get into a scrape, they are certain of working their way out of it. No, it won’t do. I must keep to my word, and be honest with him. Curse him! Here am I a beggar on crutches, and a far greater rogue lords it over me as if he were a prince.”

      So the beggar hobbled on towards the house of the Jew to fulfil his mission. I am afraid that there are too many people in the world like Giacomo, the Maltese beggar, who are honest as long only as it suits their purpose.

      Chapter Three.

      The Greek, little dreaming of the danger to which he was exposed, or, at all events, little fearing it, turned on his heel, and retraced his steps for some part of the distance he had come. His air was more buoyant and independent than before.

      “So much for business,” he muttered. “And now for amusement. We’ll try what this brave city can afford. Let me see, I passed a tratoria or a caffè but just now; I’ll look in there, and learn what is going forward!”

      He soon reached the place he spoke of; and throwing open the folding-doors at the entrance, entered with his usual careless air, and took his seat at a marble table, which chanced to be unoccupied. There was a billiard-table in the room beyond, and upstairs were more secret apartments, where games of chance were, at times, played.

      The place was full of persons of all descriptions. English and Maltese, and others of various nations. Those belonging to the army and navy, were either of inferior rank, or were harum-scarum fellows, who cared not at all with whom they associated. There were, also, masters and mates of merchantmen, Frenchmen and Italians; and there was a representative, indeed, to be found of almost all the people dwelling on the shores of the Mediterranean, as also, of more distant nations. Some were smoking, and others drinking; but the greater number were idling about, laughing and talking, as if they had come there to kill time; and when, by chance, any pause occurred, the noise of the billiard balls was heard, and the cry of the marker from the next room. The Greek seemed to excite less observation even here than in the street, except from two or three of his countrymen, who were in the room, and who eyed him narrowly. He rose and sauntered into the billiard-room, perhaps to avoid their scrutiny, perhaps simply to amuse himself by looking on at the game. He soon, however, returned, and ordering some coffee, he took up a Maltese newspaper, which appeared to afford him considerable interest.

      “Ah! here we have a complete list of all the vessels about to sail from this port,” he muttered to himself. “It will serve to compare with old Bannech’s and Giacomo’s account,” and taking out a pocket-book he quickly copied the list. “And let me see,” he continued. “What have we here? A ball