Die schwarze Galeere. English Page 8

the sea."

  The lieutenant stopped.

  "And yet, Leone, will the same fate not befall you yourself perhapssoon, maybe even tomorrow? Who fears death? Death is annihilation.Long live life! Here comes the sun. I can breathe freely again andclouds of blood disappear from before my eyes! I want to toast themorning in the fiery wine of Syracuse, even should it prove to bethe last morning I ever see!"

  The cabin boy brought a full tumbler of the exquisite wine.Della Rota lifted it towards the blazing solar sphere, emptied itat a single swallow and flung the glass far away from him into theriver, putting his foot firmly down on the planking of the deck.

  "Captain on board the Andrea Doria," he said, and almost inaudibly,he added: "Captain of the Andrea Doria and Myga, the crown of allthe maids of Flanders, mine, all mine!"

  V.Fevered Dreams.

  For the third time since the night in which the garrison of FortLiefkenhoek perceived the exchange of cannon fire between the blackgalley and the Immaculate Conception and the explosion of that ship,evening fell, a still and unusually warm evening. People who knewabout weather were of the opinion that there would be an ample fallof snow before too long and they may well have been right. Afterthe early morning sun had risen brightly in a cloudless sky, it hadaround midday crept behind heavy grey clouds. These clouds hadbecome more and more closely packed and in the evening had sunkmore and more deeply over the town of Antwerp, over land, river andsea.

  Once again we find ourselves on the Genoese ship, the Andrea Doria,in the captain's cabin.

  The hanging lamp throws its ruddy light over the room, over theweapons therein, the maps on the wall, the floor on which bloodybedclothes lie strewn about, on the bed where Antonio Valani moansand rambles in a raging fever, on Myga van Bergen kneeling wherethe pillows are at the end of the bed, on lieutenant Leone dellaRota who is standing next to where his friend is dying and wild,strange glances cast by the wounded man towards the forcibly takenmaid.

  At noon Leone della Rota had heard with equanimity from AdmiralSpinola and the governor of Antwerp that the escape of the seabeggar was attributable to him. With somewhat less equanimity hehad also received the news that, in the absence of someone moresuitable, he was to be entrusted with the overall command of theGenoese galleon for the expedition of the following day.

  Neither the governor nor the admiral had inquired after the presenceof a young woman on board ship.

  As he had had a lot of work to do both on board and on land, theday had flown by for Lieutenant della Rota and he had only been ableto devote a small amount of time to his dying friend. But on boardand on land, indeed everywhere, the young Genoan was pursued by theimage of the beautiful Flemish damsel whom he was currently holdingcaptive on his ship, who would be subject to his every whim, withoutthe slightest vestige of protection, once his friend was dead. Atfirst he sought to banish all such thoughts from his mind, but timeand again they forced themselves upon him and there was no way thathe could escape them and soon he gave up the struggle completely.The pretty child appeared to him in her desperation all the morecharming. Among the sailors and men-at-arms, in the admiral'santechamber, in the streets of the town she appeared in his mind'seye as he saw her kneeling in a cabin of the Andrea Doria, wringingher hands. The wildest of passions broke out inside him in brightflames and he sought to overcome with the most convoluted sophistrythe resistance of his conscience.

  What earthly use would it be to Antonio if he, Leone, were to sendthis woman back to where she came from?

  And now Leone recalled those moments during which he had held theyoung woman's delicate body in his arms, during which he had carriedthe unconscious girl through the gunsmoke and the streets. Then thewind had blown the damsel's fair hair into his face.

  "No, no, no, Antonio Valani, your right to this fair booty ceaseswith your life! All's fair in love and war, Antonio Valani. Strikeyour colours and pass away. Then your luck will devolve on me andtomorrow, tomorrow I'll be defeated and someone else will have thevictory. All's fair in love and war, my poor Antonio!"

  With such thoughts in his head the lieutenant had walked into thecabin at twilight and now he stood, as we have shown him, betweenthe dying man and Myga all of a tremble in the glimmer of theflickering ship's lantern.

  The idea of carrying the wounded captain ashore had been mooted,but with all the strength of a life about to be extinguished AntonioValani had expressly forbidden this. He wanted to die on board hisship and not in a hospital. He had not forgotten in his deliriumthat Leone had brought the Flemish maiden that he loved onto theAndrea Doria. The nearer he is to death, the more he clings to thislove, the more violently it manifests itself. In life he mightalmost have concealed it had his turbulent companion Leone dellaRota not meddled in it. As he lies dying, his brain casts off allrestraint; Antonio Valani no longer hides anything of what he hasformerly felt and kept a secret.

  Poor Myga! See how she kneels there at the feet of the mortallywounded captain with her hair spread out, white as a ghost, wringingher hands! No salvation, none!

  The waves of the Scheldt have swallowed up her betrothed, who wasimpotent to prevent the depraved corruption of his beloved and whohad precipitated himself into the river's cold waters so as not toparticipate in her dishonour.

  And where is God in all this? Woe is me, the night is too darkand the mind of the unfortunate maiden too disturbed to be able toremember the great Redeemer from all of life's troubles. No poweron heaven or on earth can protect her from scandal and disgrace.Poor Myga van Bergen!

  The clock in the tower of the cathedral chimed eleven, the singlechimes succeeding one another slowly and echoing in Myga's mind.

  The noise of the town gradually diminished again and once againone light after another went out behind the city wall constructedby the Italian civil engineer, Paciotti.

  The calm grew ever deeper. From time to time, however, wild criesand rejoicing rang out. From time to time too there came the raucoussinging of a stray band of soldiers or the cry of a nightwatchman andthe "Halt! Who goes there?" of patrols.

  And once again the clock whirred in the tower of the Cathedral ofOur Lady--midnight!

  Antonio Valani lifted himself up from his pillow and cast about himmad glances from his eyes aglow with fever.

  "Where is she? Leone, Leone--wine, lights and love! Leone, whereare you? Where are you holding her? Where are you keeping herhidden? She's mine, you traitor, you treacherous Leone--the girlbelongs to me! Hahaha, I'm not dead like you thought, Leone. I'malive and holding on to what is mine."

  Myga van Bergen's forehead was touching the floor of the cabin andLieutenant della Rota gently pushed the delirious man back onto hisbed and tried every way he could to calm him down, but it seemed asif all the strength and feeling of the dying man had to burst outafresh in all their fullness before they faded away forever.

  Again and again the delirious Antonio tried to escape from the armsof Leone.

  "All hands on deck. To the oars! To the oars! Long live the king!They're flying their flag--the sea beggars' flag. Fire at it! Fireat it! Eviva Genova! There goes the admiral, blown to kingdom come!Fire! Fire! It's a living hell! Leone, look after the ship. Lookafter the ship, Leone. It's all over for us. Woe is me. The beggars'flag. Man the guns. All is lost. All is lost. Look after the ship,look after the ship, Leone!"

  The sick man fell back. The lieutenant straightened his pillow forhim. Then he approached the kneeling maiden:

  "What are you afraid of, signorina? Get up. What is it keeps you downon the floor? I won't harm you, my sweet little dove. You ought tobe a queen, the absolute ruler of this good ship of ours. That's warfor you. Someone has to strike their colours. Someone else gets tofly them from the flagpole. Poor Antonio! He predicted this--for himthe grave, for me the beautiful bounty; I love you. I love you, starof Flanders, white rose of Antwerp. I love you and you're mine--stopruffling your hair, don't look so wild--you're mine and no-one's goin
gto take you from me!"

  "Jan! Jan! Help! Rescue me!" cried the maiden, without knowing whatit was she was shouting.

  "Forget about your sea beggar," whispered Leone. "Has he not had hisrevenge on us? Will not poor Antonio be dead within the hour? Why areyou so bothered about the body of this sea beggar? Leave him to driftwith the tide. Get up. Get up, I say. You shouldn't be injuring yourchaste brow by banging it on the floor. What can I say? The seabeggar's dead. Antonio Valani is dying. Take Leone, Leone who is stillalive, in the blessed arms of his proud and beautiful queen."

  "Mercy! Mercy!" stammered the maiden, but the lieutenant merely laughed:

  "Listen, one o'clock! At five o'clock we cast off. Till then you haveall the time you want to moan as much as you want, but then away withsighs and complaining.