CHAPTER XIX.

JOURS DE FÊTE AT AJACCIO.

The 10th, 11th, and 12th of May were grand days at Ajaccio; regattas going on the first two days, and horse races on the third. For some days beforehand preparations were being made, triumphal arches put up, and posts hung with Chinese lanterns. For once, the Corsican natives seemed to wake up, and an unwonted number of men were to be seen, in their excitement standing upright, instead of lounging before their doors or lying asleep upon the quay.

Saturday, the first day of the regatta, was rather a failure, owing to the weather. It was a gloomy chilly day, raining a good deal in the morning.

In the afternoon, however, it cleared up partially, and we strolled out under a grey sky towards the harbour. The _Agincourt_ lay in the offing, sent by the English Government as a compliment to the French; and also a large American vessel, as well as some handsome steamers.

Leaving the crowd upon the quay, we climbed out upon the masses of great white stone, which just now constitute the remains of the pier. It shows the force of the waves, even here in this sheltered corner of the bay, that, a few months ago, during a sudden storm, these enormous masses were broken up and thrown one upon another by the furious waters, like wooden blocks heaped up by a child.

It was exciting work climbing upon these blocks, and looking down upon the bright emerald water and white surface rolling under our feet, or playing at catch-me-who-can with the advancing and retreating waves; but, as far as the regatta went, the scene was as dull and unenlivening as possible; and two or three sailing vessels appeared to represent the competitors. Half an hour of this was quite sufficient, and we returned to our hotel, feeling that foreign regattas were just as much a slow and stupid pastime as they usually are in England.

The next day's proceedings, however, were much livelier.

We did not care to see more of the marine amusements, so, after morning church, spent the afternoon in a lovely drive, reserving the evening for dissipation.

At this time of the year the season is over, and the pretty little English church, raised during the last few years through the personal energy and generosity of a Scotch lady, is usually closed. This it had been for two or three Sundays before our arrival, since the chaplain had departed; but this Sunday we had the unusual good fortune of a choice between two services--one on board the _Agincourt_, to which the officers kindly invited us, and one in the little church itself.

With a strong desire to attend both at the same time, we finally decided on the church at our gates, feeling it a duty not to lessen the small congregation expected there, and perhaps a little comforted by the heavy swell that reigned in the bay, and which might possibly affect the deck of the _Agincourt_.

So we made three of the little congregation of fifteen, where the chaplain of the winter before last (who happened to be on a visit) read prayers; and Dr. Prothero, queen's preacher (on board a yacht in the harbour), preached a beautiful sermon on the text, "Master, we have toiled all the night, and have taken nothing." We were not even devoid of music, owing to the kind offer of a young Englishman stopping at the hotel, whose harmonium strains we all followed to the best of our fifteen abilities.

Dinner was a very merry one in the hotel that evening. About eight of the _Agincourt_ officers, accompanied by a noble colley dog, joined our small party, and added a good deal to our sociability. In honour of them we had quite a genteel spread, and generous allowance of nuts and oranges, some of which served to seduce the Ajaccio street gamins, peering curiously in at the open window, into a condition of excitement which resulted in the well-merited reproof of cold pig, administered unseen from an upper window--and in their consequent flight.

The whole town was _en fête_ to-night, and at eight o'clock we went out to see the fun. Fun it certainly was; the entire population out and enjoying itself noisily; but, apparently, no one rough or tipsy or disorderly.

Most of the principal buildings were illuminated; whilst the town presented quite a fairy-like appearance. Down all the principal streets, there was a continuous succession of large Chinese lanterns, hung from posts about eight feet high; and nothing could well have been prettier than this uninterrupted line of hundreds of golden balls, scarcely swaying in the still evening air.

The Hôtel de Ville, close by the quay, appeared to be the centre of excitement, and here a thousand or two of people, chiefly men, shouted and hurrahed, jostling each other good-humouredly, and without fear of pickpockets.

It was pleasant for once to see the popular apathy in abeyance.

The light which streamed from the illuminations on the houses round lit up the large open square with its seething mass of humanity into picturesque groups, showing here a black velveteened Corsican with a white kerchiefed companion, there a French soldier in bright uniform, and, further on, two grinning, good-tempered British tars, as shiningly clean and as much at their ease as they have a habit of looking all over the globe.

A little higher up, it fell, with a fainter radiance, upon Napoleon's grave features in the Place du Marché, turning the numerous fountain jets around him into rainbow arches of fairy-like tracery.

We had not been long on the quay before the shouting redoubled, and the crowd, falling back with some difficulty, made room for a procession to pass out from the Hôtel de Ville.

A tremendous tattoo was heard, and out came a band with a prodigious number of drums, every one of which was made to exert itself to the fullest extent of its parchment lungs. It was preceded by a large flag, vociferously applauded, and which, doubtless, was the national flag, and followed by a troop of soldiers bearing aloft Chinese lanterns or flaming torches fastened upon poles.

Forming upon the Place outside, they started off on the tour of the town, followed by most of the populace; and the great square became deserted. For the next hour it was very pretty to see them, as, at some break in the streets or sudden turn, the golden lamps and torches came into sight in the distance, winding in and out, and moving slowly on, followed by the roll of drums and the shouting crowds.

Meanwhile, we strolled up and down the quay, close beside the edge of the water, waiting for the electric light which had been promised from the deck of the _Agincourt_, and which was our national quota contributed to the night's amusement. All afternoon the English nation had been "doing the civil" in honour of the occasion, which was said to be the first on which a British man-of-war had appeared upon the Corsican coasts out of compliment, and not for _business_. Tribes of residents had visited the ship, and been introduced to the captain's cabin, where fraternity had been sworn between French and English, and sealed with champagne.

It was a beautiful evening for the electric light; calm and still, and so dark, that it was with some difficulty we managed to escape falling over the unprotected sides of the quay, and thus meeting a watery grave.

At first it burnt simply as a bright star upon the deck of the _Agincourt_; then, moving swiftly round, it turned a stream of light, clearer than day, upon the distant horizon, lighting up sailing boats upon the far-off line; then again, piercing the utter darkness to one side, it suddenly brought a fishing smack, at anchor in the harbour a furlong or so off, into closest contiguity, showing every rope upon its yards, every man on deck, in clearest detail.

Then, with mysterious, stealthy movement, flitting on, it turned abruptly towards the quay, and a shout of delight broke from the spectators, as the houses round shone in the glare of day, and the faces of the crowd stood out for a few minutes in unnatural clearness.

There was something appallingly, horribly perfect about the management of the light; and one felt almost sorry for the foe whose little night manœuvres would be rendered entirely hopeless by such an invention.

The light played about for more than an hour, and then faded slowly away; and we returned to our hotel while still the crowds were shouting and amusing themselves, but with some of the hanging lanterns already beginning to take fire in the deserted Cours Grandval, and drop unnoticed on to the darkening pathway.

The nest day, Monday, this same Cours was to be the scene of another wild excitement.

The horse races are always held up this road, which is hard and not too good, and terminates in a steep hill.

Every evening, about six o'clock, for some weeks, the practising for these races had been going on; and consisted generally of four or five raw-boned horses with long striding paces, ridden by rather ragged jockeys, sans saddle, and with reins held well up in the air.

This did not promise great things for the eventful day; but perhaps the races turned out better than appearances warranted.

We saw nothing of them; for, after a breakfast at 6 a.m., and a farewell to a dear canine friend called Chivey, we started off that very morning for a week's tour to the forest of Bavella.