thousand of the troops, they went round with
Vaughan and visited the outposts. When at
length they got back to Meri, it was past ten
o'clock, and the same glorious moon that had
lighted them on their way the night before,
shone down alike upon castle and sea, vineyard
and village, friend and foe, wakeful patrol and
sleeping soldier.

CHAPTER LXII. HOW THE BATTLE BEGAN AT
MELAZZO.

THE bugle sounded before dawn, and in the
first grey of the morning, Meri was alive with
soldiers. There had been no absolute stillness,
as of universal rest, all the night through; but
now there was a great wakefulness about the
place—a strange kind of subdued tumult, that
had in it something very solemn and exciting.

By five, the whole Garibaldian body was
under arms. The village street, the space
about the fountain, the open slopes between
the houses and the torrent of Santa Lucia,
and part of the main road beyond, were literally
packed with men. Of these the Cacciatori,
bronzed with old campaigns and wearing each
his glossy plume of cocks' feathers, looked the
most soldierly. For the rest of the troops, the
scarlet shirt was their only bond of uniformity,
and but for the resolute way in which they
handled their arms, and the steady composure
of their faces, many a well-trained soldier might
have been disposed to smile at their incongruous
appearance. There was that about the men,
however, at which neither friend nor foe could
afford to make merry.

"How many do you number altogether?"
asked Saxon, as they passed along the lines to
the little piazza, Major Vaughan leading his
horse, and the two others following.

"Taken en masse, Cacciatori, Tuscan,
Piedmontese, and foreign volunteers, about four
thousand four hundred fighting men."

"No more?"

"Oh yes, about two thousand more," replied
the dragoon, "if you count the Sicilian squadri
—but they are only shouting men. Look—
here comes Garibaldi!"

A prolonged murmur that swelled into a cheer,
ran from line to line as the Dictator rode slowly
into the piazza with his staff. He was smoking
a little paper cigarette, and looking exactly
iike his portraits, placid, good humoured, and
weather-beaten, with his gold chain festooned
across the breast of his red shirt, and a black
silk handkerchief knotted loosely round his neck.

"That is Medici at his right hand," said
Vaughan, springing into the saddle, " and the
one now speaking to him is Colonel Dunn.
Now the best thing you two fellows can do,
will be to keep with the main body, and as near
the staff as you can. You will then see whatever
is best worth seeing, and have the chance
of using your rifles as well. By Jove! Malenchini
has his orders, and is moving off already."

As lie spoke the words, the Tuscan general
marched by at the head of his battalion, taking
the westward road towards Santa Marina, where
the Neapolitans had an outpost by the sea.

"One word more," said the dragoon, hurriedly.
"If I fall, I should wish Miss Colonna to have
Gulnare. She always liked the little Arab, and
would be kind to her. Will either of you
remember that for me?"

"Both—both!" replied Saxon and the Earl,
in one breath.

"Thanks—and now fare you well. I don't
suppose we shall find ourselves within speaking
distance again for the next five hours."

With this, he waved his hand, dashed across
the piazza, and fell in with the rest of the staff.
At the same moment General Cosenz, having
orders to conduct the attack upon the Neapolitan
left at Archi, rode off to take the command of
his veterans; while Fabrizi and his Sicilians—
a mere boyish impulsive rabble, of whom no
leader could predict half an hour beforehand
whether they would fight like demons, or run
away like children—bore off to the extreme
right, to intercept any Neapolitan reinforcements
that might be advancing from Messina.
Finally, when right and left were both en route,
the main columns under Medici were set in
motion, and began defiling in excellent order
along the St. Pietro road, leaving Colonel Dunn's
regiment to form the reserve.

Following Vaughan's advice, the two young
men shouldered their rifles, and marched with
the centre. It was now about six o'clock.
The sun was already gaining power; but a fresh
wind was blowing from the sea, and the vines on
either side of the road were bright with dew.
As they passed over the little bridge beyond the
village, and looked down upon the flats below,
they could see Malenchini's division winding
along to the left, and Cosenz' men rapidly
disappearing to the right. Then their own road
sloped suddenly downward, and they saw only a
continuous stream of scarlet shirts and gleaming
rifles. On it rolled, to the measured, heavy,
hundred-fold tramp of resolute feet, never ceasing,
never pausing, with only the waving cane–brake
on either side, and the blue sky overhead.

In the mean while the enemy's forces were
known to be drawn up in a great semicircle
about half way between Meri and Melazzo,
reaching as far as Archi to the right, and down
to the sea shore beyond Marina to the left. But
not a man was visible. Completely hidden by
the cane-brake and the vines, favoured by the
flatness of the ground, prepared to fall back
upon the town if necessary, and, if driven from
the town, to take refuge in the castle, they
occupied a position little short of impregnable.

Presently, as the Garibaldians descended
further and further into the plain, a distant
volley was heard in the direction of Santa
Marina, and they knew that Malenchini's men
had come up with the extreme right of the
Neapolitan semicircle. An eager murmur ran
along the ranks, and a mounted officer came
riding down the line.

"Silenzio!" said he. "Silenzio!"

It was young Beni. Seeing Saxon and
Castletowers marching as outsiders, he smiled
and nodded, then rose in his stirrups, and
reconnoitred ahead.