CHAPTER XII
MOVING ON
"Here's a letter from my dear old friend Silas Watson," said Uncle John,delightedly. "It's from Palermo, where he has been staying with hisward--and your friend, girls--Kenneth Forbes, and he wants me to lug youall over to Sicily at once."
"That's jolly," said Patsy, with a bright smile. "I'd like to seeKenneth again."
"I suppose he is a great artist, by this time," said Beth, musingly.
"How singular!" exclaimed Louise. "Count Ferralti told me only thismorning that he had decided to go to Palermo."
"Really?" said Uncle John.
"Yes, Uncle. Isn't it a coincidence?"
"Why, as for that," he answered, slowly, "I'm afraid it will prevent ourseeing the dear count--or whatever he is--again, at least for sometime. For Mr. Watson and Kenneth are just leaving Palermo, and he asksus to meet him in another place altogether, a town called--called--letme see; Tormenti, or Terminal, or something."
"Give me the letter, dear," said Patsy. "I don't believe it's Terminalat all. Of course not," consulting the pages, "it's Taormina."
"Is that in Sicily?" he asked.
"Yes. Listen to what Mr. Watson says: 'I'm told it is the most beautifulspot in the world, which is the same thing you hear about most beautifulplaces. It is eight hundred feet above the Mediterranean and nestlespeacefully in the shadow of Mount Etna.'"
"Etna!" cried Uncle John, with a start. "Isn't that another volcano?"
"To be sure," said Beth, the geographer. "Etna is the biggest volcano inthe world."
"Does it spout?" he asked, anxiously.
"All the time, they say. But it is not usually dangerous."
"The proper thing, when you go to Eu-rope," declared Uncle John,positively, "is to do Venice, where the turpentine comes from, andSwitzerland, where they make chocolate and goat's milk, and Paris andMonte Carlo, where they kick high and melt pearls in champagne.Everybody knows that. That's what goin' to Eu-rope really means. ButSicily isn't on the programme, that I ever heard of. So we'll just tellSilas Watson that we'll see him later--which means when we get homeagain."
"But Sicily is beautiful," protested Patsy. "I'd as soon go there asanywhere."
"It's a very romantic place," added Louise, reflectively.
"Everybody goes to France and Switzerland," remarked Beth. "But it'sbecause they don't know any better. Let's be original, Uncle, and keepout of the beaten track of travel."
"But the volcano!" exclaimed Mr. Merrick. "Is it necessary to stick tovolcanoes to be original?"
"Etna won't hurt us, I'm sure," said Patsy.
"Isn't there a Greek theatre at Taormina?" asked Louise.
"I've never heard of it; but I suppose the Greeks have, if it's there,"he replied. "But why not wait till we get home, and then go to Kieth'sor Hammerstein's?"
"You don't understand, dear. This theatre is very ancient."
"Playing minstrel shows in it yet, I suppose. Well, girls, if you saySicily, Sicily it is. All I'm after is to give you a good time, and ifyou get the volcano habit it isn't my fault."
"It is possible the Count said Taormina, instead of Palermo," remarkedLouise, plaintively. "I wasn't paying much attention at the time. I'llask him."
The others ignored this suggestion. Said Patsy to her uncle:
"When do we go, sir?"
"Whenever you like, my dears."
"Then I vote to move on at once," decided the girl. "We've got the bestout of Naples, and it's pretty grimey here yet."
The other nieces agreed with her, so Uncle John went out to enquire thebest way to get to Sicily, and to make their arrangements.
The steamer "Victor Emmanuel" of the Navigazione General Italiana linewas due to leave Naples for Messina the next evening, arriving at itsdestination the following morning. Uncle John promptly booked places.The intervening day was spent in packing and preparing for the journey,and like all travellers the girls were full of eager excitement at theprospect of seeing something new.
"I'm told Sicily is an island," grumbled Uncle John. "Here we are, on atrip to Eu-rope, and emigrating to an island the first thing we do."
"Sicily is Europe, all right, Uncle," answered Patsy. "At least, itisn't Asia or Africa."
That assertion seemed to console him a little, and he grew cheerfulagain.
The evening was beautiful as they embarked, but soon after leaving thebay the little, tub-shaped steamer began to tumble and toss vigorously,so that all the passengers aboard speedily sought their berths.
Uncle John found himself in a stuffy little cabin that smelled of tarand various other flavors that were too mixed to be recognizable. As aresult he passed one of the most miserable nights of his life.
Toward morning he rolled out and dressed himself, preferring the deck tohis bed, and the first breath of salt air did much to restore him. Daywas just breaking, and to the right he could see a tongue of fireflaming against the dark sky.
"What is that, sir?" he enquired of an officer who passed.
"That is Stromboli, signor, the great volcano of Lipari. It is always ineruption."
Uncle John groaned.
"Volcanoes to right of us, volcanoes to left of us volleyed andthundered," he muttered dismally, as he fell back in his chair.
The sky brightened, and the breath of the breeze changed and came to himladen with delicious fragrance.
"See, signore!" called the officer, passing again; "before us is mightyEtna--you can see it clearly from the bow."
"Volcanoes in front of us, volcanoes behind us!" wailed the little man.But he walked to the bow and saw the shores of Sicily looming inadvance, with the outline of the stately mountain rising above anddominating it.
Then the sun burst forth, flooding all with a golden radiance that wasmagical in its gorgeous effects. Patsy came on deck and stood beside heruncle, lost in rapturous admiration. Beth soon followed her.
Before long they entered the Straits of Messina and passed between theclassic rock of Scylla on the Calabrian coast, and the whirlpool ofCharybdis at the point of the promontory of Faro, which forms the end ofthe famous "Golden Sickle" enclosing the Bay of Messina.
"If this is really Eu-rope, I'm glad we came," said Uncle John, drawinga long breath as the ship came to anchor opposite the PalazzoMunicipale. "I don't remember seeing anything prettier since we left NewYork."
Presently they had loaded their trunks and hand baggage, andincidentally themselves, into the boat of the Hotel Trinacria which camealongside in charge of a sleepy porter. After a brief examination at thecustom-house, where Uncle John denied having either sugar, tobacco orperfumery, they followed on foot the truck laden with their worldlypossessions, and soon reached the hotel.
A pleasant breakfast followed, which they ate before a windowoverlooking the busy marina, and then they drove about the town for atime to see in a casual way the "sights." In the afternoon they took thetrain for Taormina. Messina seemed a delightful place, but if they weregoing to settle in Taormina for a time it would not pay them to unpackor linger on the way.
So they rolled along the coast for a couple of hours in a quaint,old-fashioned railway carriage, and were then deposited upon theplatform of the little station at Giardini.
"I'm afraid there has been a mistake," said the little man, gazingaround him anxiously. "There's no town here, and I told the guard to putus off at Taormina--not this forlorn place."
Just then Beth discovered a line of carriages drawn up back of thestation. The drivers were mostly asleep inside them, although severalstood in a group arguing in fluent Italian the grave question as towhether Signora Gani's cow had a black patch over its left shoulder, ornot.
Some of the carriages bore signs: "Hotel Timeo;" "Grand Hotel SanDomenico;" "Hotel Castello-a-Mare;" "Grand Hotel Metropole," and soforth. In that of the Castello-a-Mare the man was awakening and rubbinghis eyes. Uncle John said to him:
"Good morning. Had a nice rest?"
"I thank you, signore, I am well refreshed,
" was the reply.
"By the way, can you tell us where the town of Taormina is? I hate totrouble you; but we'd like to know."
The man waved an arm upward, and following the motion with their eyesthey saw a line of precipitous cliffs that seemed impossible to scale.
"Do you desire to go to the Grand Hotel Castello-a-Mare?" enquired thedriver, politely.
"Is it in Taormina?"
"Most certainly, signore."
"And you will take us?"
"With pleasure, signore."
"Oh; I didn't know. I supposed you were going to sleep again."
The man looked at him reproachfully.
"It is my business, signore. I am very attentive to my duties. If youpermit me to drive you to our splendide--our magnifico hotel--you willconfer a favor."
"How about the baggage?"
"The trunks, signor, we will send for later. There is really no hurryabout them. The small baggage will accompany us. You will remark howexcellent is my English. I am Frascatti Vietri; perhaps you have heardof me in America?"
"If I have it has escaped my memory," said Uncle John, gravely.
"Have you been to America?" asked Beth.
"Surely, signorina. I lived in Chicago, which, as you are aware, isAmerica. My uncle had a fruit shop in South Water, a via which isChicago. Is it not so? You will find few in Taormina who can the Englishspeak, and none at all who can so perfectly speak it as FrascattiVietri."
"You are wonderful," said Patsy, delighted with him. But Uncle Johngrew impatient to be off.
"I hate to interrupt you, Mr. Vietri," he hinted; "but if you can sparethe time we may as well make a start."
The driver consented. He gracefully swung the suit-cases and travellingbags to the top of the vehicle and held the door open while his faresentered. Then he mounted to his seat, took the reins, and spoke to thehorses. Some of the other drivers nodded at him cheerfully, but more asif they were sorry he must exert himself than with any resentment at hissuccess in getting the only tourists who had alighted from the train.
As they moved away Uncle John said: "Observe the difference between thecab-drivers here and those at home. In America they fight like beasts toget a job; here they seem anxious to avoid earning an honest penny. Ifthere could be a happy medium somewhere, I'd like it."
"Are we going to the best hotel?" asked Louise, who had seemed a trifledisconsolate because she had not seen Count Ferralti since leavingNaples.
"I don't know, my dear. It wasn't a question of choice, but ofnecessity. No other hotel seemed willing to receive us."
They were now winding upward over a wonderful road cut in the solidrock. It was broad and smooth and protected by a parapet of dressedlimestone. Now and then they passed pleasant villas set in orchards ofgolden oranges or groves of olives and almonds; but there was no sign oflife on any side.
The road was zigzag, making a long ascent across the face of the cape,then turning abruptly to wind back again, but always creeping upwarduntil an open space showed the station far below and a rambling stonebuilding at the edge of the cliff far above.
"Behold!" cried Frascatti, pointing up, "the Grand HotelCastello-a-Mare; is it not the excellenza location?"
"Has it a roof?" asked Uncle John, critically.
"Of a certainty, signore! But it does not show from below," was thegrave reply.
At times Frascatti stopped his horses to allow them to rest, and then hewould turn in his seat to address his passengers in the open victoriaand descant upon the beauties of the panorama each turn unfolded.
"This road is new," said he, "because we are very progressive and theold road was most difficulty. Then it was three hours from the bottom tothe top. Now it is but a short hour, for our energy climbs the threemiles in that brief time. Shall I stop here for the sunset, or will yourexcellenzi hasten on?"
"If your energy approves, we will hasten," returned Uncle John. "We lovea sunset, because it's bound to set anyway, and we may as well make thebest of it; but we have likewise an objection to being out after dark.Any brigands around here?"
"Brigands! Ah; the signor is merry. Never, since the days of Naxos, havebrigands infested our fair country."
"When were the days of Naxos?"
"Some centuries before Christ, signor," bowing his head and making thesign of the cross.
"Very good. The brigands of those days must, of course, be dead by thistime. Now, sir, when you have leisure, let us hasten."
The horses started and crept slowly upward again. None of the party wasin a hurry. Such beautiful glimpses of scenery were constantly visiblefrom the bends of the road that the girls were enraptured, and couldhave ridden for hours in this glorious fairyland.
But suddenly the horses broke into a trot and dragged the carriagerapidly forward over the last incline. A moment later they dashed intothe court of the hotel and the driver with a loud cry of "Oo-ah!" and acrack of his whip drew up before the entrance.
The portiere and the padrone, or landlord--the latter being also theproprietaire--came out to greet them, extending to their guests acourteous welcome. The house was very full. All of the cheaper roomswere taken; but of course the Signor Americain would wish only the bestand be glad to pay.
Uncle John requested them to rob him as modestly as possible withoutconflicting with their sense of duty, and they assured him they would doso.
The rooms were adorable. They faced the sea and had little balconiesthat gave one a view of the blue Mediterranean far beneath, with lovelyIsola Bella and the Capo San Andrea nestling on its bosom. To the righttowered the majestic peak of Etna, its crest just now golden red in thedying sunset.
The girls drew in deep breaths and stood silent in a very ecstacy ofdelight. At their feet was a terraced garden, running downward twohundred feet to where the crag fell sheer to the sea. It was gloriouswith blooming flowers of every sort that grows, and the people on thebalconies imagined at the moment they had been transferred to an earthlyparadise too fair and sweet for ordinary mortals. And then the glow ofthe sun faded softly and twilight took its place. Far down the windingroad could be seen the train of carriages returning from the station,the vetturini singing their native songs as the horses slowly ascendedthe slope. An unseen organ somewhere in the distance ground out aNeapolitan folk song, and fresh and youthful voices sang a clear, hightoned accompaniment.
Even practical Uncle John stood absorbed and admiring until the softvoice of the facchino called to ask if he wanted hot water in which tobathe before dinner.
"It's no use," said Patsy, smiling at him from the next balcony withtears in her eyes; "There's not another Taormina on earth. Here we are,and here we stay until we have to go home again."
"But, my dear, think of Paris, of Venice, of--"
"I'll think of nothing but this, Uncle John. Unless you settle down withus here I'll turn milkmaid and live all my days in Sicily!"
Beth laughed, and drew her into their room.
"Don't be silly, Patsy dear," she said, calmly, although almost asgreatly affected as her cousin. "There are no cows here, so you can't bea milkmaid."
"Can't I milk the goats, then?"
"Why, the men seem to do that, dear. But cheer up. We've only seen theromance of Taormina yet; doubtless it will be commonplace enoughto-morrow."