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PALGRAVE STUDIES IN ENVIRONMENTAL POLICY
AND REGULATION

Governing
the Anthropocene
Novel Ecosystems, Transformation and
Environmental Policy

Sarah Clement
Palgrave Studies in Environmental
Policy and Regulation

Series Editor
Justin Taberham
London, UK
The global environment sector is growing rapidly, as is the scale of the
issues that face the environment itself. The global population is estimated
to exceed 9 billion by 2050. New patterns of consumption threaten
natural resources, food and energy security and cause pollution and
climate change.
Policy makers and investors are responding to this in terms of support-
ing green technology as well as developing diverse regulatory and policy
measures which move society in a more ‘sustainable’ direction. More
recently, there have been moves to integrate environmental policy into
general policy areas rather than having separate environmental policy.
This approach is called Environmental Policy Integration (EPI).
The series will focus primarily on summarising present and emerging
policy and regulation in an integrated way with a focus on interdisciplin-
ary approaches, where it will fill a current gap in the literature.

More information about this series at

http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/15053
 Sarah Clement

Governing the
Anthropocene
Novel Ecosystems, Transformation
and Environmental Policy
Sarah Clement
Department of Geography and Planning
University of Liverpool
Liverpool, UK

Palgrave Studies in Environmental Policy and Regulation

ISBN 978-3-030-60349-6    ISBN 978-3-030-60350-2 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-60350-2

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2021

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether
the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of
illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and trans-
mission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or
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The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication
does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant
protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book
are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or
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 Preface

My motivation to write this book was fairly simple: human impacts are
transforming the planet, and changing governance could improve the
situation. I also realised that many different people working in biodiver-
sity conservation are concerned about the near-existential threat of these
changes on the work that they do, and many of them implicitly under-
stand governance challenges. Yet it seemed to me that there was a discon-
nect between the natural sciences literature on how ecosystems are
changing and the research on governance and transformation. While
there has certainly been a cross-fertilisation of ideas between governance
and ecological research, much of the governance literature remains
impenetrable for many natural scientists, practitioners, and policymak-
ers. There are many reasons for this, but one reason is perhaps that the
governance literature is, like so much academic literature, full of jargon.
There are many abstract and intertwined concepts that are not always
easy to untangle or even relevant for those working in other disciplines
and professions. Even though most conservationists can speak at length
about governance challenges and have many ideas about how they could
be overcome, sorting through the academic writing on the topic to find
some practical insights can be a formidable task, just as a foray into the
world of climate modelling might be daunting for many governance
researchers.

v
vi Preface

I learned this first-hand when I began my doctoral research. I was

asked to analyse the institutions and governance systems targeting biodi-
versity loss and explore ways that Australia could move beyond single-­
species approaches to target whole landscapes and ecosystems. At that
point, I had worked in environmental management and policy for a
decade, where I gained a wealth of direct experience of governance, both
as an environmental scientist in the field and as a social scientist and
policy advisor for government agencies. Having assumed that developing
a project on institutions and governance would be an easy task, I quickly
learned that this would not be the case. I realised that there was no single
agreed definition of what governance is, how to study it, or even what
form it should take. I could spend months just trying to decipher a single
school of thought on what an institution is and how these elusive features
of our social world could be studied. As with most academic disciplines,
there are many different perspectives and approaches within the gover-
nance literature, each with their own specialist language and perspectives
that are important for communication within the discipline, but make it
difficult for outsiders to understand.
My interest in novel ecosystems was also piqued during this time, as it
seemed to me that this contested concept could benefit from some of the
insight I was gaining in my governance research. There was also a realisa-
tion about the subjectivity of nature conservation that arose from my
background and experience. I grew up in America and received my envi-
ronmental science degree there, before leaving to work in Australia with
a very particular idea of what wilderness looks like. Although I knew
there was no such thing as ‘pristine’ anymore, I still had a sense that
nature was something that could be studied as something separate from
culture. Those ideas were challenged by my work in biodiversity conser-
vation, as I saw people who strongly believed nature needed active human
intervention to survive in many landscapes. Moving to the UK trans-
formed those ideas again, providing a clear example of just how different
novelty can be viewed in different contexts.
This book draws on the lessons of the governance literature, but seeks
to simplify those messages and translate them into practical terms. This is
not always possible. The use of specialised concepts from both the natural
 Preface vii

and social sciences is inevitable, but I try to distil these as much as pos-
sible and provide a glossary for reference. As you will see, there are also
many areas where the research findings are unclear, practical insights are
hard to pin down, and further work, across multiple disciplines, is des-
perately needed. In highlighting these deficiencies in our present under-
standing, my aim is to speak to a wider audience of individuals and
organisations who work in environmental conservation, both within and
outside of academia, about the scale of the task that lies ahead, and some
of the potential ways changing governance might help us more effectively
confront the ecological challenges of the Anthropocene.
A great deal has been written about how significant social, economic,
and political unrest can provide the conditions for positive policy change.
To take advantage of these windows of opportunity, it is important to
have a clear message about what the problem is, pragmatic ideas about
potential solutions, and a plan for leveraging political conditions in
favour of positive social change (Kingdon 1995). As I write this in 2020,
it feels as though the world could not be more tumultuous. The year that
started with Australia in flames has progressed through a series of remark-
able events, including global protests, further fires in the Arctic and
America, and, of course, the COVID-19 pandemic that sent much of the
world (and its economies) into lockdown. The positive impacts on nature
and carbon emissions resulting from these lockdown measures have
inspired a proliferation of thought pieces about how this will change our
relationship to the natural world. There are currently conversations about
how to use this opportunity to transition to a more sustainable economy.
There has been talk of a ‘green recovery’ and the launching of the UK
government’s policy of ‘build back better’, both of which put climate
change at the heart of political promises. These declarations are being
made as yet another significant change looms—Britain’s impending exit
from the European Union, which requires Britain to develop its own
environmental governance principles and regulations to fill the gaps. It
remains to be seen whether these windows of opportunity and these
political promises will lead to a sustainable transformation. While many
of the conditions are right, and many people acknowledge the need,
intentional social and governance transformations are difficult to
viii Preface

engineer. There is also a sense that many people are desperate to return to
‘normal’—a desire that might well unravel the hopeful expressions and
dreams of a ‘green future’ that have been nurtured amidst the maelstrom
of the COVID-19 crisis. Should this reversal not occur, however, the
aforementioned need for an understanding of the problems we face—
and an appreciation of what is achievable and what is not in answer to
these problems—will be as pressing as ever. The chapters ahead present a
first step towards fulfilling that need and with it, ideas and provocations
that, hopefully, will inspire others to explore further in their own work.
Liverpool, UK

Reference
Kingdon, J. W. (1995) Agendas, alternatives, and public policies. 2nd ed.
New York: HarperCollins College Publishers.
 Acknowledgements

All books are a collective effort, even if single authored. First and fore-
most, I need to thank all of the participants in my research. There are
hundreds of people who have participated in both large and small ways,
and I hope I did your views justice. In particular, I would like to thank
the experts who took the time to respond to my thorny questions about
scientific concepts, including Professor Richard Hobbs, Professor Chris
Thomas, Associate Professor Rachel Standish, Professor Pat Kennedy, Dr.
Joe Fontaine, Dr. Phil Zylstra, Professor Richard Bradshaw, and Professor
Rob Marrs. It is not an easy thing trying to marry governance and sci-
ence, and any failure to capture nuance is mine and not yours. To the
many colleagues who came to my various talks and seminars, particularly
those that heard about these thoughts in an embryonic stage, I appreciate
your thoughtful questions that help me develop my thinking. To Marko
for the photographs as well as the sort of inspiration that I didn’t even
know I needed; nothing is impossible. I appreciate the support of all of
my friends during this process, but a special thank you to Christina
Berry-Moorcroft for your indefatigable and helpful support. And to
Pandora, I cannot overstate your role as morale officer. Finally, to James
whose belief in my capacity never fades, and who encouraged me to do
this in the first place. As always, you offered support in every way, but

ix
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x Acknowledgements

more than ever in this case you offered an intellectual sounding board,
much-needed critique, and you added a bit of levity to the whole opera-
tion. All in all, a successful mission.

Funding Statement Funding for the research in the Tasmanian Midlands

and Australian Alps was from the Australian Government’s National
Environmental Research Program as part of the Landscapes and Policy
Research Hub. Research on Nature-Based Solutions is part of a project
that has received funding from the European Union’s Horizon 2020
Research and Innovation Programme under Grant Agreement No
730426. The rest of the research was self-funded.
 Contents

1 Transformation and the Anthropocene  1

Narratives, Framing, and the Anthropocene    5
Geoscientific Debates: Framing the Evidence    8
Transformative Framings of the Anthropocene   15
Governance and the Anthropocene   19
What Is Governance, and Why Should It Change?   21
Novel Ecosystems, Governance, and the Anthropocene   24
A Way Forward?  26
References  27

2 Understanding Change and Governing Transformation 37

Social Science, Biodiversity, and the Anthropocene   38
The Governance Angle   40
Where Have We Gone Wrong?   42
Governance and Effectiveness   42
Governance: Barrier, Vessel, or Panacea?   45
Governance as Scaffolding   49
Understanding Institutions and Institutional Change   50
The Challenge of Institutional Change   52
Institutional Change in Context   55
Transformation, Adaptation, and Capacity   57

xi
xii Contents

Rising to the Challenge   62

References  63

3 Domains of Change in Biodiversity Conservation 75

Domains of Change   77
Domain 1: How We Talk about Conservation (Stories)   77
Domain 2: How We Think About Conservation (Ideas)   79
Domain 3: How We Decide About Conservation
(Objectives)  80
Domain 4: How We Structure Conservation (Policies)   83
Domain 5: How We Act (Capacities)   85
References  92

4 Novel Decisions and Conservative Frames 97

A Brief Overview of the Concept  100
The Geography of Novel Ecosystems  103
Framing Novel Ecosystems and Narrating Change  106
Novel Ecosystems and Declining Standards  108
All Is Not Loss  111
Biodiversity and Provenance  114
Novel Grassland Ecosystems and Conservative Frames in
Australia 118
Conserving Grasslands Under Changing Conditions  120
Multifunctional Landscapes, Expanding Narratives, and
Narrow Frames  122
Beyond Degradation  123
Expanding the Conservation Toolkit  125
Limits to Change  130
Reflecting on the Novel Ecosystem Framing  133
References 134

5 Cultural Landscapes and Novel Ecosystems145

Can Cultural Ecosystems Be Novel Ecosystems?  146
Changing Cultures and Shifting Baselines  148
Desirable States and Cultural Ecosystems  153
Cultural Severance and Biodiversity Loss  155
 Contents xiii

Heathland in the UK  156

Alvars in Estonia  166
Satoyama Landscapes in Japan  173
Lessons for Elsewhere  177
References 178

6 Climate Change, Conservation, and Expertise187

Conservation and Climate Change  191
Expert Perceptions on Managing Biodiversity in a
Changing Climate  194
Global Survey of Conservation Experts  197
Geography and Experience  197
Current Situation  199
Changing Management Practice  201
Managing for What Values?  206
Management Now and into the Future  209
Thoughts for the Future  213
Knowledge Governance and Adaptation  215
Balancing Precaution and Flexibility  218
References 221

7 Contested Concepts, Cultures of Knowledge, and the

Chimera of Change229
Framing Contests and Transforming Ecosystems  232
Fire and Transformation  234
Humans, Wildfire, and Biodiversity  235
Crisis—And Opportunity?  237
Catastrophic Bushfires and Contested Knowledge in
Australia 239
Framing the Future  248
Leveraging the Power of Nature to Confront Societal
Challenges 249
Origins, Principles, and Promises  253
Hope for the Future, or Chimera of Change?  259
References 270
xiv Contents

8 Conclusion: Reform, Reinvention, and Renewal281

Narrating Novelty  282
Knowledge, Capacity, and Tools for Change  283
The Culture of Conservation and the Conservation
of Culture  287
Assumptions, Principles, and Context  288
Reform, Reinvention, and Renewal  290
References 290

Glossary293

References297

Index347
 List of Figures

Fig. 6.1 Current intensity of impacts 199

Fig. 6.2 Perceived impact of climate change on ecological patterns and
processes202
Fig. 6.3 Likelihood of supporting the use of non-traditional
management options 203
Fig. 6.4 Personal importance of conservation goals for respondents 209
Fig. 6.5 Agreement with statements about management now and into
the future 210
Fig. 6.6 Considerations and level of influence on a typical
conservation project 213

xv
 List of Tables

Table 1.1 Example of scientific evidence used in defining the

Anthropocene11
Table 3.1 Governance principles, definitions, and implications for the
Anthropocene81
Table 3.2 Ways to change institutions through institutional work 88
Table 6.1 Summary of survey participants 198
Table 6.2 Effectiveness of current approaches in addressing the top 3
most intense drivers of biodiversity loss 201
Table 6.3 Likelihood of supporting management of novel ecosystems
by geographic focus of respondent 204
Table 6.4 Likelihood to support introduction of non-native species
that are more likely to survive in a changing climate by
geographic focus 205
Table 6.5 Likelihood of supporting primarily social goals in managing
biodiversity in a changing climate 208
Table 6.6 Information-related constraints to adaptation 211
Table 6.7 Governance constraints to adaptation 212
Table 7.1 Potential institutional work strategies to enable change in
fire governance 250
Table 7.2 Key performance indicators for the Liverpool Urban
GreenUP project 261

xvii
 1
Transformation and the Anthropocene

Human impacts on natural systems are unprecedented, intensifying, and

widespread. While many of the consequences of human actions are
plainly evident or at least well publicised, the full extent of anthropogenic
causes of environmental decline are more pervasive and extensive than
many realise. Now that the majority of the world’s population lives in
cities, it is perhaps still possible to think there are areas, away from human
population centres, that are untouched by humans. It is tempting (and
comforting) to believe there is a wilderness ‘out there’ that remains pris-
tine, providing a refuge for nature. There are certainly refuges, but to say
they are pristine would be an overstatement. Estimates of the extent of
human impacts vary, but a recent study found up to 95% of the Earth has
been modified by humans in some way, primarily through human settle-
ment, agriculture, transportation, natural resource extraction, and energy
production (Kennedy et al. 2019). Humans are a relative newcomer to
the planet, appearing 5–7 million years ago—just a few seconds before
midnight if all of geological time were presented as a 24-hour clock. It
was much more recent still that we began to have truly large-scale impacts
on the planet and its natural environment, specifically when the first
crops were cultivated and cities constructed 10,000 years ago. During

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 1

S. Clement, Governing the Anthropocene, Palgrave Studies in Environmental Policy and
Regulation, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-60350-2_1
2 S. Clement

this brief time in command of the planet, humans have become a power-
ful force of change globally, and perhaps even the world’s most powerful
pressure in accelerating evolutionary change in other species (Palumbi
and Mu 2007). When considered on a geographical scale, our ‘success’ in
modifying our environment over such a short period is almost impressive.
It is less impressive when considered through the lens of ecological
sustainability. Despite many modern metrics of human progress showing
improvement, the extent of human impacts jeopardises the functionality
of the very systems we rely on for human health and economic prosperity.
Although not always evident in the short term, the steady expansion of
human footprints across the globe has, inevitably, risked the long-term
health of many of the Earth’s systems. With respect to ecosystems, changes
can be the result of large-scale activities such as land clearing, but often
they are the cumulative result of less-dramatic actions. Known as ‘death
by a thousand cuts,’ even with environmental legislation in place, many
smaller-scale changes over time have caused a gradual but steady loss of
species, habitats, and ecosystem function1 (Dales 2011). The cumulative
impacts are substantial, with persistent and pervasive changes leading to
degradation of ecosystems at a planetary scale. Most of these changes are
gradual, but some have argued that they will also lead to more abrupt
changes called ‘tipping points’. Although this idea is being contested and
difficult to evidence (Brook et al. 2013; Hillebrand et al. 2020), the idea
that we have already exceeded several planetary boundaries that would
constitute a ‘safe operating spaces’ for the planet has achieved purchase,
particularly for climate change and biodiversity (Rockström et al. 2009a,
b; Mace et al. 2014; Newbold et al. 2016). The concern is that these
steady changes will lead to much more dramatic, abrupt changes.
Although this has proven difficult to evidence and anticipate, the concern
is that drivers of change can be synergistic and reinforce each other (e.g.
through feedback loops). This concept of a ‘safe operating space’ reflects

1
Ecosystem function has several different meanings in ecology, including ecological processes that
sustain an ecological system and the services an ecosystem provides to humans or other organisms
(Jax and Setälä 2005). Most often in this book, ‘ecosystem function’ is used to refer to the ecological
processes that control the fluxes of energy, nutrients, and organic matter through an environment
(e.g. primary production, nutrient cycling) (Cardinale et al. 2012). Ultimately, these are linked to
ecosystem services and the benefits ecosystems provide to humans and other organisms.
 1 Transformation and the Anthropocene 3

concerns that there are thresholds that should not be crossed, and that
the gradual changes we observe will ultimately lead to changes so signifi-
cant that we cannot reverse them, leading to even greater challenges for
humanity.
Although environmental change is often studied by focusing on par-
ticular systems (e.g. the hydrosphere, geosphere, biosphere, and atmo-
sphere), a more human-focused study reminds us that the planet functions
as a system (‘the Earth System’2), with social dimensions truly embedded
into these dynamics. The latter includes economic drivers, which are
social in origin and key influence on human behaviours. Although driv-
ers of environmental change can be natural in origin, the vast majority of
environmental change is now caused, either directly or indirectly, by
humans. Humans are not just sources of change, but they also are depen-
dent on natural systems and vulnerable to changes in those systems. The
Earth System and social systems are mutually vulnerable and mutually
dependent (Fraser et al. 2003). Environmental change is not just a con-
cern for ‘environmentalists’ but for all inhabitants of the planet, given
this reflexive relationship.
Although globally humans have demonstrated remarkable capacity to
adapt to change through technology and other innovations, there are
natural limits. It is now possible we are approaching thresholds that, once
crossed, could lead to cascading effects and even irreversible changes at
continental and even planetary scales, with subsequent impact on life and
livelihoods (Rockström et al. 2009a, b; Hughes et al. 2013; Steffen et al.
2015). While the goal of most environmental policies is to maintain the
stability of ecosystems, this can be problematic for a number of reasons.
First, the intuitive notion of stability as it is commonly understood by lay
people and policymakers—that is, as something that is relatively static or
that ecosystems reach a ‘climax’ state and return to this state following
disturbance—is not consistent with modern understandings of ecological
stability or ecosystem dynamics more generally. Policy documents and
peak environmental bodies also often leave the concept of ecological
2
The ‘Earth System’ refers to the idea that the Earth ‘behaves as a single, self-regulating system
comprised of physical, chemical, biological, and human components’ (Moore III et al. 2001). It is
used in discussions of the Anthropocene to emphasise that humans have changed the way this
whole system is functioning.
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Exploring the Variety of Random
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the people; and here you will look in vain for the city, once so famed
for its extent and opulence: but the sacking and burning of 1544,
the convulsion of 1783, and succeeding wars and woes, have
reduced it to what you now see."
Though some of its streets were new and handsome, they were
quiet as those of a sequestered hamlet at home: impoverished and
oppressed by the invaders, their inhabitants were few, and those
poor and dejected in appearance. The scenery, however, was
beautiful; the winding shores, the dark waters of the Straits, the
high mountains of the purest green, and the variously tinted groves
of aromatic trees, all combined to render the place charming. The
smooth bosom of the glassy sea vividly reflected the landscape: but
we looked in vain for that wondrous phenomenon, the Fairy
Morgana; who was so condescending, a few years before, as to
display her coral palaces thrice to the Dominican Frà Antonio Minaci.
Less favoured by the fair mermaid, we beheld neither inverted fleets,
nor submarine cities; and, after a canter along the Marina,
adjourned to the Café Britannica to dine.
In the evening, as we sat sipping our wine at the open
windows, enjoying the cool west wind from the Straits, and
observing the passers-by—for the streets became a little more
animated, as the men turned out to smoke their cigars and talk
politics, the women to see them and promenade—a crowd beneath
the balcony attracted our attention.
"An improvisatore," said Castelermo, as the notes of a guitar
were heard. "Shall I give him a theme!"
"Certainly: but what shall it be! The Fall of Rhodez?"
"You shall hear: the capture of Scylla."
 He drew a card from his case, wrote something on the back of it
with a pencil and threw it over the balcony. In the midst of the
crowd stood a young man, in the common but graceful garb of the
province, with a broad scarlet ribband encircling his hat, the front of
which was adorned by a loyalist cockade of the same hue. His jacket
of green plush was gaily embroidered, a broad white shirt-collar was
folded over it, yellow cotton breeches, a green silk sash and leather
gaiters finished his attire; but there was something very jaunty,
intelligent, gay, and impudent in his rosy face and tout ensemble.
His mandolin announced him to be one of the improvisatari:
wandering minstrels, or itinerant storytellers.
I know not whether those men are worthy of the name of
inspired poets; but so wonderful is their talent for versification, that
some of the better class of them have been known to produce, ex-
tempore, a five-act tragedy, and an epic, divided into cantos and
having a regular plot, characters and dialogues: all maintained in
octave-syllabic rhyme. I had often encountered them in Sicily,
where, by the wayside and among the mountains, their songs had
cheered the tedium of many a long march, and had bestowed many
a ducat upon them; regarding the wanderers as representatives of
the ancient troubadours or minnesingers, once so common over the
whole of Europe: but the modern minstrel we encountered at Reggio
provoked me extremely.
"Benissimo!"' cried he, while coins of every description
showered from all quarters into the high crown of his inverted hat.
"The illustrious cavalier has given me a gallant theme: Madonna aid
me to do it justice! Signori, you will hear a story of the brave English
captain, who took the castle of Scylla for King Ferdinand, and so
gained the love of a fair Italian signora."
"Bravissimo!" cried the men, and the women clapped their
hands exultingly.
Castelermo glanced at me with a droll smile, and we both burst
into a fit of laughter.
"Impossible! the fellow cannot mean me!" said I.
"You shall hear. Ah! the prelude—hear him—excellent! He excels
Andrea Marone in verse; and our fair Gorilla, the gifted peasant girl
of Pistoia, who, amid the roar of a hundred cannon, was crowned
queen of the gentle art at Rome, could not finger the mandolin more
lightly, or with better taste. Basta! he should make his fortune!"
Imagine my surprise, on hearing the improvisatore give forth,
extempore, to his eager, silent, and gaping audience, a song or
poem of some thirty or forty long verses, in very tolerable ottiva
rima, descriptive of the siege and storm of Scylla, in which, under
the name of Claudio Dundazo, I was continually mentioned in a
strain of most extravagant compliment, as the valoroso capitano,
and most gallant cavaliere in the world. What annoyed me most,
was that the name of Bianca d'Alfieri had not escaped the minstrel;
who made her the heroine of his impudent epic.
"Oh! Castelermo—by the Lord! this is too ridiculous. I care not
about myself; but Bianca's name to be used thus, for amusing the
rabble of Reggio!" said I, starting up. "How the proud girl's cheek
would flush, if she knew of this! You gave him the theme."
"The theme, merely.—Hush!" added the knight, detaining me, as
the improvisatore concluded, describing our joyous marriage in a
splendid cathedral, with incense burning, bells ringing, and priests
praying. After a grand invocation of all the saints—to whom he
described us as vowing several pounds of excellent wax candle,
whilst a magnificent petticoat was promised to Our Lady of Burello—
the bard concluded: once more he inverted his hat; into which we
each threw our mite.
"His profession must be the best in Italy," said I, on beholding
the shower of coins which rained into the amply-brimmed receiver—
the clanking dollar, the ringing carlino, and the tinkling bajocch.
"He has acquitted himself well: Gorilla herself could not have
done better; and, believe me, I pay the wanderer no ordinary
compliment in saying so."
"But he must be cautioned against using the name of the
Signora d'Alfieri in future."
"Already he has gone, signor," replied the knight; "and your
threats and requests he would neither hear nor obey. The
improvisatori will find the celebration of the fall of Scylla the most
popular theme in the Calabrias; where all rejoice that the horse of
Naples once more spreads its wings over the last stronghold of
Napoleon in the province. Did you not observe how his enthusiasm
enabled him to acquit himself, and how he seemed to rejoice in his
wondrous art? While describing the night attack on Scylla, his breast
seemed to pant with ardour, and his eyes sparkled with animation:
his swarthy cheek glowed crimson, while his rapid and liquid words
enchained his listening audience. He is a handsome fellow: at that
moment he seemed beautiful, and all the women were in raptures
with him. Yet how still they remained, as if a spell was upon them,
until he concluded; and then burst forth the universal shout of
'Excellentissimo—oh! most excellent!'"
 On our return to Scylla, as I dismounted, throwing the reins to
my groom, he informed me that an Italian general officer was
waiting for me at the house of Signora Pia on some business of
importance. Startled by this communication, I hurried to my billet,
and found the supposed general to be old Zaccheo Andronicus; who,
in his gorgeous chasseur's livery, might easily be mistaken for some
officer by Mr. Bob Brown, whose perceptions of things, beyond the
heel-post of the stable, were none of the clearest.
I joyously welcomed "the old grey Grecian;" who had recovered
from his wound, and was now bearer of a letter from Bianca, in
answer to one despatched the night before Scylla was stormed.
I consigned him, forthwith, to the care of my padrona; and
hurried away, to enjoy, in solitude, the delight of perusing Bianca's
first—and, as it proved, her last—letter.
Written in her pretty little running hand, it began with the usual
address of "caro signor;" but my heart leaped, on finding the fair girl
using the frank and more endearing phrase of "anima mia." The
viscontessa begged to be remembered to me: she had lost an
enormous sum at faro last night, with the last of her suite of
brilliants. Luigi was slowly recovering from the effects of his wound;
but his peace of mind was gone for ever. To hasten his recovery, his
mother had thrice vowed a solemn pilgrimage to the cave of St.
Rosalia, in Sicily; but had as often abandoned the attempt, and
vowed candles to San Ugo instead: since which he had begun to
recover more rapidly, and all at the villa had no doubt that the saint
had interceded in his behalf. She applauded my conduct at Scylla;
and, to me, her praise was more valuable, and more highly prized,
than that of the generals. She had perused all the despatches in the
Gazetta Britannica, and her heart had leaped alternately with pride
and joy—with fear and horror—at the narration. "Oh! Claude," she
continued, "you know not how proud I am of you: how I rejoice at
your escape! But Francesca, my sister—my unhappy sister!—we can
discover no trace of her: her fate is enveloped in mystery. We have
every horror to fear; for Petronio the Bishop of Cosenza, though
deemed a saint by the peasantry, is a bold and bad-hearted man;
and, Francesca in his power!—oh! Madonna! Would that you could
visit us: her loss and Luigi's illness fill us with perplexity and dismay."
Next day, I despatched an answer by the chasseur, promising to
solicit the general for a few days' leave of absence, to visit the villa.
But this idea was never realized in the manner I expected; as I was
despatched, on urgent duty, to the Adriatic shore, a day or two
afterwards.

CHAPTER XIV.
NAVARRO.—REVENGE!

Although I had no doubt that this honourable personage, for the

purpose of disgracing me or endangering my life, had, in that true
national spirit of revenge of which every day brought forth some
new example, forged the letter which Gascoigne received; still I had
not sufficient proof of the fact, either to "call him out," or place him
under arrest. We met daily in the garrison, and glances of
undisguised hostility from him were duly answered by those of
contempt from me: but such a state of things, between men
wearing swords, could not endure long.
A whisper of suspicion—most injurious to the honour of
Navarro, as a man of courage and loyalty—was circulated through
the brigade. Shunned, scorned, and placed in Coventry by the
officers, slighted and regarded with curious eyes by the soldiers, his
baseness recoiled upon himself: he led a life of solitary
wretchedness and misery. But he was a traitor and Buonapartist at
heart, and in close correspondence with Regnier; to whom he soon
deserted: yet not before committing one of those atrocities which
disgraced Italy then, as often as they do a certain western island
now.
Having so many adventures to describe, and so much to relate,
I must be brief. My quarrel with Navarro soon came to a crisis: being
sent to him by the general, with a message relative to the re-
fortifying of Scylla, I was so provoked by his dogged insolence, that I
laid my riding switch pretty severely across his back; a challenge
ensued, and we were to fight next morning, in the most remote part
of the fortress.
Cool and determined, though exasperated, I went to bed
without the least anxiety: I had no doubt of coming off victorious;
and, hardened as I was by the bloodshed of service, would have
cared no more for shooting Navarro than killing a partridge. Now it
appears to me singular with what deliberation Castelermo and I
made our preparations over-night; rolling six pistol cartridges, fixing
the flints, oiling the springs, and putting all in order to start by
daybreak. After supping as usual, we retired to bed; each giving the
other solemn injunctions not to sleep too long.
 I have already stated, that in consequence of the crowded state
of the billets, we both occupied the same room.
About daybreak, I started, and awoke: the business on hand
rushed upon my memory. I sat up in bed and reflected for a moment
on the events another hour might bring forth: my train of thought
was arrested by observing a current of air agitating the muslin
curtains of my couch, and causing them to float about like banners. I
leaped out, and, to my surprise, perceived the casement unbolted
and open; admitting, at once, the cold sea-breeze, and dull grey
morning light.
"Castelermo—signor, rouse! It wants but twenty minutes to the
time, by my watch."
"And ten by mine," said Gascoigne, putting in his head: he was
closely muffled up in his cloak. "What! only turning out; eh,
Dundas?"
"It is all very well for you to be in a hurry," said I, pettishly. "You
Irishmen take these affairs quite as matters of course. I'll be ready
in a minute: a chill morning for a shooting party," I added, with a
poor attempt at a laugh, "Where is Macnesia?'
"Below, with his instruments: but your friend, the knight, sleeps
soundly. Hallo, Castelermo!"
There was still no reply. Dressing in haste, I called often, but
received no answer; and supposing that he must have risen, I drew
back the curtain of his sleeping place to assure myself, when a
scarcely articulate exclamation of horror escaped my lips. Imagine
my grief and astonishment, to behold our poor friend lying drenched
in his blood, pale and lifeless!
 I placed my hand on his heart; it was cold and still. Gascoigne
bent over the window, and shouted—
"Macnaisha—Macnaisha—you devil you, come here!" The doctor
arrived in a moment, but the cavalier was beyond his skill: there was
not the slightest warmth or pulsation. The gallant, the noble, and
chivalric Castelermo had perished by the hand of a cowardly
assassin. Buried to the very cross-guard, in his heart, a little ebony-
hilted poniard, was struck, with such force that some strength had to
be exerted to draw it forth; and on my doing so a strip of paper,
attached to the pommel, attracted our attention; it contained these
words:—
"Let those who would avenge this insolent Briton, seek me
among the ranks of the French at Cassano: a word I might have
forgiven—a blow never.—Pietro Navarro."
Although boiling with indignation, I shuddered at the fate I had
so narrowly escaped. For me it was that the fatal stroke had been
intended; and I then remembered Castelermo's warning, to beware
of the cowardly Navarro. Clambering up by a garden-wall, the
miscreant had reached our casement, which he had contrived to
open noiselessly; but on entering the room he had mistaken the
unfortunate cavalier's bed for mine, and my friend had thus perished
in my stead.
"The blow must have been struck about midnight," said
Macnesia.
Only an hour after we retired to rest: perhaps Navarro had been
outside the window during the greater part of the night watching our
preparations for the intended meeting next morning. But with three
hundred of our soldiers we had all a narrower escape from this
Italian's hatred and duplicity: of which the reader shall hear more
anon.
The Signoressa Pia was overwhelmed with consternation and
dismay on learning that the knight of Malta had perished under her
roof. Followed by a mob of fishermen, the podesta, with his clerk,
arrived and committed to writing a statement of the facts; while I
preserved the poniard and the assassin's signature for production
and evidence, should a day of retribution ever arrive.
Enraged at this act of sacrilege, the populace searched every
nook and corner in the town; two or three old knights of
Castelermo's order, who resided in the neighbourhood, armed and
mounted their followers and servants, who, in conjunction with
those of the podesta, and a detachment of our light troops, scoured
the whole country round: yet without success. Navarro was nowhere
to be found: but we soon after learned that he had sought refuge
behind the lines of his friends, the French; who still remained
entrenched at Cassano, awaiting the slow advance of Massena.
In the solitary mountain-chapel of San Bartolommeo, poor
Castelermo was interred with military honours: the grenadiers of Sir
Louis de Watteville, drawn up outside the edifice, fired three volleys
over it, while the coffin was lowered down in front of the altar;
where he now lies with his mantle, sword and spurs, like a knight "of
old Lisle Adam's days."
He was one of the last cavaliers of the original order, which for
two hundred and sixty-eight years had possessed the Isle of Malta.
Since 1800, when France ceded the Rock to Britain, they have been
gradually declining in power and disappearing; and, although at the
petty courts of Italy a few aged men are sometimes seen with the
eight-pointed cross of the order on their bosoms, the Knights of
Rhodes and St. John of Jerusalem have, in effect, passed away: like
Castelermo himself, their glory is now with the things that were.
Unfortunately I was not present to witness the celebration of my
friend's obsequies. On the close of this day, which had commenced
so inauspiciously, I had returned with the Light Infantry, and wearied
by a long search among the woods and hills, was sitting dejectedly
in my billet alone, when Pierce, the general's orderly, arrived with a
message, that I was wanted by his master. I took up my sabre, and
followed him to the antique mansion where I had first seen Sir John
Stuart, on my arrival at Scylla.
The General was engaged in writing: the table was covered with
despatches, returns, reports, and morning-states; a map of Italy and
a pair of compasses lay close by. The rosy light of the setting sun
streamed through the barred and latticed window on his stern
Scottish features, his silver hairs and faded uniform; and the
tarnished aigulette and oak-leaves, a cross of the Bath, a medal for
Maida, and clasps for other services, all blackened by powder-smoke
and the effects of the weather, gave him a very service-born and
soldier-like aspect.
"Pierce, hand Captain Dundas a chair, and wait outside."
"Help yourself, Claude," said he, pushing two decanters of
Lacrima and Zante towards me, after asking a few hurried questions
concerning our fruitless chase after the runaway engineer. "Fill your
glass: the Zante is tolerable; and just excuse me for five minutes,
will you?" He continued writing, and then folded a long and very
official-like document. "A journey is before you," said he; "and as
you will have to start to morrow morning by day-break, light
marching order is best."
"For where, Sir John?"
"Crotona: I would not have sent you back there, but Lascelles of
yours has not returned from Cassano, and Lieutenant-Colonel Moore
is not available. Will you believe it? I have received orders from the
ministry to abandon the Calabrias forthwith, or do that which is the
same; to order back the expedition to Sicily, leaving garrisons in the
strong places we have taken. These troops will, of course, become
the prisoners of Massena; who (I am informed by a despatch from
General Sherbrooke) has arrived at Cassano, and is there
concentrating a force, which will soon burst over both provinces like
a torrent: so that Maida was won, the citadel of Crotona taken, and
the castles of St. Amanthea, Monteleone and Scylla all gallantly
stormed, for nothing. We might as well have remained in peace in
our barracks at Palermo. But, however foolish and contrary to my
own conviction, those orders must be obeyed. One of the Sicilian
government gallies will take you hence to-morrow, and put you on
board the Amphion in the Adriatic. Give my compliments to Captain
Hoste, with this order to take on board Colonel Macleod's command
from Crotona, and convey it straight to Messina. To Macleod you will
convey these instructions: to deliver over the citadel, with its cannon
and stores, to five hundred of the free Calabri: who will in future be
its garrison, and be commanded by Major the Cavaliere del
Castagno, or any other officer whom that insubordinate fellow the
Visconte Santugo may appoint. A detachment of De Watteville's shall
hold Monteleone; and Captain Piozzi, with a few of the Italian
Guards, the castle of St. Amanthea. I am resolved that as few British
troops as possible shall be sacrificed by the folly of our friends in
authority. Your regiment is the best in Sicily, and a wing, or
detachment, of it will garrison Scylla; which is of the utmost
importance to us as a key to Italy: but if hard pressed by Massena,
they can easily abandon it under the protection of our shipping.
"To-morrow I return to the camp, to embark the main body of
our army for Messina: you will, of course, come round with
Macleod's Highlanders, and rejoin me at Palermo; where I hope we
shall spend many a merry evening in talking over our campaign
among the Apennines."
I was in a sort of a maze while the general so good-naturedly
explained his plans and orders: in which I felt very little satisfaction.
My thoughts were at the villa. To leave Calabria at present was,
perhaps, to leave Bianca: a deadly blow to my air-built castles;
unless Massena's legions marched south in time to change the
intentions of our leader. Relying on the general's friendship, I had no
doubt that my return to Sicily might be delayed for a time; therefore
I did not hesitate to solicit the appointment of commandant at
Scylla, with the local rank of major in Italy.
"You are but a young officer, and the charge is a most important
one," said he, impressively: "but you are getting tired of me,
Dundas?"
"Far from it, Sir John; the staff——"
"I am afraid I task you too severely: well, as a punishment for
your discontent, you shall have Scylla to keep, so long as our friend
Massena will permit. His advance will soon scare the garrison out of
it. I cannot refuse you that which you underwent so many toils and
risks to attain: the nomination will appear shortly in general orders,"
(he made a memorandum) "but on one condition it is granted, that
you do not spend too much of your time at St. Eufemio."
I coloured at the inuendo, while the old fellow laughed at what
he considered a hit, and held the decanter of glowing Zante between
him and the sunlight. He shook me heartily by the hand, and,
buckling up the despatches in my sabre-tache, I hurried back to my
billet to desire my servant to pack my valise, and have all in order
for starting by daybreak.
 CHAPTER XV.
THE CAVALLO MARINO.

The report of the morning gun had scarcely pealed away from the
ramparts ere Brown appeared by my bedside, and the reveillé rang
through the echoing stillness of the castle above me. In barracks
there are few sensations more agreeable than that of being
awakened by the reveillé on the dawn of a summer's day: gradually
its sweet low wail steals upon the waking senses, sadly and slowly at
first, then increasing in strength and power till the full body of music
floats through the morning air, redoubled by the echoes of the
empty barrack-courts; when as the measure from the slowness of a
Scottish lament increases to the rapidity of a reel, the drams roll
impatiently as if to rouse the tardy sleepers.
"Well, Bob, what kind of morning is it?" said I, scrambling up,
shivering and yawning.
"Cold and raw, sir—the drums sound as if muffled, a sure sign
of a damp morning. The galley's boat is at the castle stairs, sir."
It was chilly and dark daybreak: the ramparts of Scylla looked
black and wet; the sentinels buttoned up in their dark great-coats
kept close within turret and box; a thick fog floated on the surface of
the sea, and rolled in eddying volumes around the caverned rock
and the hills of Milia. With Bob's assistance I soon donned my tight
leather breeches and jack-boots, and shaved hurriedly by candle-
light, using the case of my watch in lieu of a dressing-glass. It was a
morning of that kind when it requires all one's resolution to leave a
comfortable bed, and turn out in five minutes, to face a drizzly fog
and cold sea-breeze: so tightening my waist-belt, I threw my cloak
round me, bade a hasty adieu to my kind Padrona and her dishes of
polenta, and sallied forth.
The boat awaited me at the sea stair-case, a flight of steps
hewn in the solid rock, and descending from the castle to the water,
which was rolling in snowy foam on those at the bottom, I threw my
portmanteau on board, and leaped after it. Brown saluted and bade
me adieu, while I warned him, on peril of his head, to attend to
Cartouche and see him duly fed and watered, as I used to do myself.
The boat was shoved off, and we shot away into the mist from
the lofty rock of Scylla; which, with its castled summit, loomed like
some tall giant through the flying vapour. The oars dipped and rose
from the wave in measured time, while the boatmen chanted and
sang of the glories of Massaniello the fisherman of Amalfi, and of the
mad friar Campanello, who led the Calabrian revolters in 1590.
In the pauses of their chorus, I could hear the boom of the
waves in the hollow caverns, sending forth sounds like the howling
of dogs and the roaring of Scylla's ravening wolves, who abode
among darkness and misery, and rendered the spot so terrible to the
ancient mariner: but the noise died away as the distance increased.
The fog arose from the face of the waters, the rising sun began to
gild the summits of the Sicilian and Italian hills, and I beheld the
war-galley lying, like a many-legged monster, on the bosom of the
brightening deep. We steered alongside, the oars were laid in, and
the side-ropes and ladder were lowered into the boat; which two
sailors held steady, at stem and stern, by means of hooks. The
galley was named the Cavallo Marino, and a gigantic sea-horse
reared up at her prow: the same emblem appeared carved upon her
quarters, and the name was painted, in large red letters, on the
broad white blade of every sweep. She was a high vessel, pulled by
fifty oars, each of them at least forty feet long and worked by five
miserable slaves, half naked: they were chained by the wrists to the
oar, or else fastened to their seats; between which there ran, fore
and aft, a long plank or gangway, where the boatswain or
taskmaster walked about, applying his lash on the bare shoulders of
those unhappy wretches who did not exert themselves sufficiently.
The sailors of the Cavallo Marino, about fifteen in number, were
stationed forward; she was armed with a large thirty-two pound
forecastle-piece, and manned by two hundred and fifty slaves, the
dregs of the prisons and dungeons of Naples and Sicily: assassins,
bandits, runaway priests, and villains of all descriptions, steeped in
guilt of every imaginable kind. She had a captain, two lieutenants,
and a few petty officers, who wore the government uniform: they
were grouped on her lofty poop when I ascended on board. I was
received, according to the custom of that service, by a cheer from
the slaves: but, alas! such a cheer! It was more like a yell from the
regions of darkness; for the boatswain and his mates used their
rattans unsparingly, to increase the joy of my arrival. Many a bitter
malediction was growled by the Italians, whose eyes gleamed like
those of coiled-up snakes; many a pious cry to God broke from the
swarthy Algerines, who were there doing penance for the slavery to
which their countrymen subjected those unhappy Christians who, by
conquest or shipwreck, fell under their horrible dominion. A Moor of
Barbary, or a corsair of Algeria, formed the fifth slave at every
sweep. The poop was armed with a few brass swivel guns; and the
standard, having the arms of Sicily quartered with those of Naples,
was displayed from a tall staff rigged aft, and hung drooping in deep
folds over the water, which it swept at times, when agitated by the
morning breeze.
The officers were the only men on board who wore their side-
arms: the slaves were all too securely chained to be dreaded;
notwithstanding their number.
By the captain, Guevarra, a pompous little Sicilian, I was
formally welcomed on board "His Majesty's galley, Sea-Horse" (a
phrase he was very fond of repeating), and invited to breakfast with
the officers in their little den under the poop. Here we were often in
darkness, as the long folds of the standard obscured the windows;
but when the wind wafted it aside, the full radiance of the rising sun
glared in through the openings, on the light blue uniforms, silver
epaulettes, and weather-beaten visages of my entertainers; on the
glass cups of smoking coffee and thick chocolate, a savoury ham,
with piles of eggs, pyramids of bread, and all the appurtenances of
the breakfast table.
"Per Baccho!" said the captain—who, though a little man, was
armed with a prodigious sabre, and wore a most extravagant pair of
moustachios—"per Baccho! signor," he continued, with a most bland
Sicilian smile, "it would have been a particular favour had the
general sent you off to us last night: by this time we should have
doubled Spartivento; and, as there is some word of a French line-of-
battle ship being up the Gulf of Tarento, his valour who commands
the Amphion will be impatient to be joined by his Majesty's galley
Sea-Horse.—Lieutenant, I'll trouble you for the maccaroons.—We
shall have some rough weather before evening, and these double-
banked galleys ship every sea that strikes them.—The muffins? with
pleasure, signor.—And, truly, one is safer anchored close by the
Tower of the Lantern, than exposed to a lee shore and all the
damnable currents that run round Spartivento in the evening. But,
believe me, signor, that his Majesty's galley Sea-Horse—Boy! pass
the word for more coffee."
"Si Signor Capitano," replied a little olive-cheeked urchin in shirt
and trousers, who vanished with the silver coffee-pot.
"Considering the beauty of the morning, and the unclouded
splendour of the sun, I trust," said I, "with all due submission to
your better judgment, that you may prove a false prophet."
"Impossible, signor!" replied the Sicilian; who was doing ample
justice to all the good things before him. "I have sailed in—an egg,
thank you—in his Majesty's galleys, for forty years, and know every
shoal, current, rock and sign of the Italian seas, better than the
boasted Palinurus of old—Better? said I. Bah! I hold him to be an
arrant blockhead, and no seaman, to resign his helm to Signor
Morpheus; whose 'Stygian dew' I believe to have been a big-bellied
flask of most potent Gioja or French brandy."
"But Palinurus was an accursed heathen, like his master,
misnamed the 'pious Æneas;' and having no saint to patronize him,
could expect nothing else than mishaps," said one of the lieutenants.
"Right, Vinoni," replied the captain; "but we, sailors of his
Majesty of Sicily, are the Madonna's peculiar care. Faugh! a
tarantella in the cream-pot and fire-flies in the marmalade. Yes,
Signor Dundas," he continued, resuming his former theme, "there is
a regular hurricane gathering; though from what point I cannot quite
determine. Last night the yellow moon rose above the Calabrian
hills, surrounded by a luminous halo; a sure sign of a tough gale,
which Madonna avert: what is worse, we may have it in our teeth,
blowing right a-head, before we round yonder Capo del Armi. On our
voyage from Palermo, yesterday, as we passed through the Lipari
Isles, they were covered by a white vapour; a sure sign of a north-
east wind: but though the shore lies on our lee, his Majesty's galley
can always use her sweeps, and give it a wide berth."
"But did you not remark, signor," said Vinoni, "that before we
came in sight of the Pharo, the mist had floated away from the
Lipari, and the mouth of Stromboli threw clear flames across the sky,
whilst the waves smoked and growled with a remarkable noise? all
sure tokens of a land breeze."
"Right, Vinoni!" said the captain, whose opinion was generally
formed on that of his lieutenant; "right: corpo! I feel it blowing down
the Straits at this moment, and the white foam that curls before it
on the water, announces a coming squall."
Leaving these weatherwise Italians to settle the matter as they
chose, I walked forward to observe the accommodation and
construction of this peculiar vessel. She was now under weigh; and
though strained from stem to stern by every stroke of the sweeps,
she moved through the water with a motion so easy and rapid, that
her officers had little occasion to dread either contrary winds or
tides.
The broad-bladed sweeps brushed the ocean into foam, which
roared in surf beneath the sharp bows, boiling away under the
counter, and leaving astern a long white wake in the glittering sea.
The sun was now up, and his rosy morning light cast a warm glow
over land and ocean.
Captain Guevarra stood beside me on the poop, and pointed out
the different towns, mountains, and headlands, as we moved down
the Straits: his observations proved amusing, from the strange
compound of knowledge and ignorance, religion, superstition, and
vanity they exhibited.
We were soon in mid-channel: the fruitful shore of old Trinacria,
studded with innumerable towns and villages, nestling on the green
hills, embosomed among the richest foliage or shining along the
sandy and sunny beach, rose in succession on the view, while piles
of picturesque mountains closed the background; and soon, chief
amongst them all, gigantic Etna reared up its mighty cone,
appearing to rise from the watery horizon on our starboard bow.
From its yawning crater a lengthened column of light vapour
ascended into the pure air, in one steady, straight, and unbroken
line, piercing the pale-blue immensity of space, and rising to an
altitude, where, in the soft regions of upper air, it was for ever lost
to the eye.
As the range of the Neptunian hills, and the town of Messina
with its large cathedral—its numerous churches and convents, its
terraced streets sweeping round swelling eminences, and its busy
harbour crowded by a forest of masts—closed, lessened, and sank
astern; the bay of Reggio, on the other hand, opened to our view,
with all the spires and casements of its town gleaming in the beams
of the morning sun: the high peaks of its hills behind covered to the
summit with dark green pines, and fragrant orange or citron trees.
The galley-slaves were now pulling with all their strength, to make
headway against the strong current which runs towards Cape
Pelorus; but we soon got clear of the eddies, and moved through the
water with astonishing speed.

CHAPTER XVI.
THE RACE.—GALLEY-SLAVES.

"Yonder is Rhegium, signor," said the Captain Guevarra; "where

Eolus dwelt before he removed his government over to Sicily; and
where he sold fair winds to mariners, and tied the foul ones up in
paper bags—the cursed heathen! And yet it would be some
advantage if such commodities could be purchased in these vulgar
modern days. I have known the time when I would have given sixty
pieces of gold for a single puff of fair wind: but that was before I
had the honour of commanding his Majesty's galley Sea-Horse and
all those stout rogues who work it.—Ah! Madonna mia!" he
ejaculated, crossing himself, as we walked on the weather side of
the poop; "what is all this I have been saying? Our Lady of Sicily
forgive me the thought, and keep me contented with such winds as
pass over the sea, without buying from heathen, heretic, or devil!—
Viva! how bravely the old Sea-Horse shoots through the water!
Believe me, Signor Dundas, there is not another galley in the service
of his Sicilian Majesty equalling this, for strength, speed, and beauty
of mould."
"Yet there is a little vessel yonder, cracking on under every stitch
of canvass, which seems able and disposed to beat you."
 "Beat the Sea-Horse—beat his Majesty's galley!" cried the little
commander, stamping his feet on the deck. "Corpo di Baccho! if any
man on board, save yourself, signor, had even hinted that such a
thing was possible, I would have dropped him from the yard-arm
with a forty-pound shot at his heels: I would, this instant—I,
Gandolfo Guevarra."
After this outburst, I did not venture on another remark; and we
walked up and down in silence. Between us and Cape Pillari, a swift
little Maltese schooner, of a most rakish cut, was flying through the
water, with her snow-white canvass shining in the sun, and bellying
out to the breeze; while her flashing sweeps were moving, stroke for
stroke, with those of the galley, which she was evidently leaving
astern. She was low-built, almost level with the water, which she
cleft like an arrow.
"Ola! the boatswain," cried Guevarra, perspiring with rage,
which made every fibre of his little body quiver, while he twisted his
long moustachios and looked fierce as a rat at bay. "By the blood of
Gennaro! that villainous craft is leaving us astern. Shall a runaway of
Malta, laden with base merchandize, beat his Majesty's galley the
Sea-Horse? No, no—Madonna! Quick, rascal, there! fly-flap the
shoulders of the oarsmen, or your own shall smart before sunset.—
And you, signor—master-gunner."
"Si signor illustrissimo."
"Ready—the gun there, forward; to teach these vagabonds to
keep their distance, and not attempt to rival those who sail under his
Majesty's pennant."
The forecastle-piece was double-shotted and cleared away for
action; while the boatswain and his mates flew from stem to stern,
lashing unmercifully the bare shoulders of the slaves, with as little
remorse as one would the flanks of a vicious horse. Tremendous
curses and horrible blasphemies followed this application of the
rattans, and the unhappy wretches toiled until their swarthy skins
were deluged in perspiration, which mingled with the blood
streaming from their lacerated backs. The storm of maledictions
soon died away, their exhausted strength requiring that they should
work in silence; and I looked on, in pity and disgust, while the
miserable beings toiled at the ponderous oars, with measured action
which strained every muscle to its utmost power of tension. On
glancing along the rows of black-browed, unshaven, and lowering
visages, I read one expression in them all—a fearful one! Of what
demoniac minds were those stern eyes the index! A thirst for
vengeance, rather than for freedom, animated their savage Italian
hearts: every bosom was a hell of pent-up passion; every man a
chained fiend.
The sweeps were moved by each gang rising simultaneously
from their bench, and then resuming the sitting position; again
rising, and again sitting, without a moment's respite from toil; and if
any man failed to exert himself sufficiently, every slave at that
particular sweep received the same number of blows as the
delinquent. Such, Guevarra informed me, was the unjust rule in his
Majesty's galleys. One poor wretch dropped dead; and while a
shower of blows was distributed to his four comrades, to make them
work harder, the iron-hearted boatswain, unlocked with a master-key
the padlock which held the chain, and the body was flung into the
deep. Many a glance of envy followed it, as it disappeared beneath
the bright green water; and once more groans of grief and growls of
smothered rage broke forth: but, though the slaves toiled on till the
galley seemed to fly through the water, the little scampavia still kept
ahead of her.
"Work! work! or beware the scurlada," cried the boatswain, who
now flourished a gigantic whip, beneath the whisk of which every
slave cowered instinctively. "Ahi, Frà Maso, different work this from
mumbling latin at Palermo," he cried, bestowing a burning lash on
the back of one who had been a priest; "work, work, sloths, if you
wish not your hides flayed off. Ola! you, there, with the nose like
Ovid, and face like the O of Giotto, dost think thou art selling paste
buckles at Messina once more? Bend to the oar Maestro Naso, or
feel that!"
A yell burst from the unhappy Israelite, as the terrible lash
ploughed up his tender skin, while the task-master continued:
—"Work, work! pull away larboard and starboard: give way, my
beauties, if you would have life left you to behold the sun set. Bravo,
my merry little devil at the bow-oar; you seem a very Cicero, and
look as if born with the sweep in your hand."
A laugh, rising into a yell, at the bow, attracted my attention,
and on going forward I perceived the hunchback, Gaspare Truffi,
tugging away at the first oar, which he pulled in conjunction with
three men: his strength being deemed equal to that of two slaves.
As I stepped along the gangway, scowling and imploring glances
were cast upon me, by the swart and naked oarsmen. I could not
resist saying, in a low voice,
"Poor men! truly I pity you!"
These words were not thrown away.
 "Madonna bless thee, Signor Inglese," said he who had been
called Frà Maso; "like thy countrymen, thou art merciful!"
"Merciful! bah!" cried Truffi; "have I not seen them scourge their
brave soldiers like dogs—even as we are now scourged!"
I watched the exertions of the powerful hunchback with
surprise: he toiled away with what appeared most decided good-will,
without receiving a single blow from the boatswain, although his
conical hump and shaggy breast presented prominent marks for the
taskmaster's scourge. His aspect was grotesque beyond description,
as he tugged away and strained until every muscle in his deformed
body seemed about to snap; his matted black hair overhung his
fierce twinkling eyes, and a forest of the same material fringed his
capacious mouth, which every instant sent forth a yell or a shout of
laughter. On my approach, he bent to the oar with redoubled fury,
raving and howling, while he spat towards me in token of hatred and
undying enmity. With more astonishment than commiseration, with
more disgust than pity, I regarded this curious little desperado;
whose hideous form contrasted so strongly with the powerful and
herculean frames of the other slaves: their bodies, naked to the
waist, and having every muscle hardened to rigidity by excessive
toil, presented in almost every instance perfect models for the artist
and sculptor.
A half-stifled sob—a hurried exclamation—caused me to turn
towards a fine-looking old slave, to whose antique contour of head
and face additional dignity was lent by a venerable beard, which
swept his breast. Never shall I forget the glance with which his keen
dark eyes regarded me: his features had all that noble regularity and
proud contour which are often found in old Italian portraits; but
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