Out of habit, the sound of his name brought Joshua to an abrupt halt and Charlie followed suit. They exchanged a quick shrug of their shoulders and a grin as they waited for the other members of the group to join them.
“Gentlemen…gentlemen,” Dr Hawley chided, as if speaking to recalcitrant children. “You must curb your impatience, and prepare your minds for a truly awesome sight of nature.”
“Yes, sir,” they muttered in unison, and looked balefully at the former soldier. Sergeant Perceval ignored them and walked two steps behind at the rear of the line.
The final stretch they covered on foot was steep and slow. As young legs moved at the pace of old, Joshua felt hot and sweaty and he envied the Italian guides their clothes in lighter-weight material, but knew any attempt to remove his coat would be met with disapproval. He hoped that English country dress would be appropriate for other parts of the journey; otherwise they were in for an uncomfortable time.
The dry heat and frustration of the moment brought out Charlie’s strange sense of humour. Separated from Dr Hawley by little more than a few feet, he muttered to Joshua, “I bet I could have reached the ridge before you.”
“How much…?” Joshua said, striving to maintain a degree of the freedom he had been offered and lost.
“Half a guinea,” Charlie retorted. “You would have lost for sure, because I’m more agile. Your feet are too big and clumsy.”
Instead of arguing the point, Joshua said, “Which part of the ridge?”
“The rim of the crater, of course, you idiot Norbery,”
“Having observed every clinker and charred blade of grass along the way, I suppose,” Joshua intoned.
“Yes…something like that.”
“I’ll prove you wrong on that, Cobarne,” said Joshua, determined to have the last word. “The bet is not off – only deferred until we return to Linmore.”
Charlie nodded agreement and they continued the plodding pace in silence.
At the top of the path, a sense of unreality assailed them as they looked towards the rim of the hollowed-out mountain; and a sudden awareness of the need to watch where they put their feet amongst the black clinkered lava that littered the ground.
Remarkably, Dr Hawley seemed to come to life. “The guide tells me we have less than one hour, gentlemen. Then we must return, to allow other visitors to ascend,” Dr Hawley, said over his shoulder as he hurried away to investigate the crater, adding as an afterthought, “Don’t go too close to the edge.”
Joshua heard the warning as he moved forward, and then hesitated before taking a step closer to peer into the crater. The sheer size and depth of the opening took his breath away, and yet he felt an irrational sense of disappointment at its quiescent state. Nothing below moved, or smelled unusual. He felt somehow cheated of the fire and brimstone he had been led to expect from pictures in books.
“Is that all there is?” he said.
Charlie looked for himself, and came to the same conclusion.
“Looks like it.”
After all that time and spent effort, there was hardly a puff of steam to show a difference in temperature. The white wispy clouds they saw from across the bay really were clouds, not signs of volcanic activity.
Of course, there might be more going on, deep inside, but the crater was so vast and the clinkered black lava rocks near the edge blocked their view. It was five years since the last eruption, but lichen was already growing on some of the boulders.
They did not know what to do, so they picked up pieces of black rock, to take home – one to show Aunt Jane and the twins, and another for Sophie. Such thoughts inevitably took Joshua home to Linmore, which seemed far away from this barren place.
Dr Hawley seemed to have forgotten them. He was in discussion with the local farmer, who guided them to the top. One was speaking Italian in precise terms, the other fluent in a local dialect, too fast for anyone to follow.
Joshua turned back to look at the view. No one could fault that, but he had no idea how he would complete the report of the day’s activities, which Dr Hawley insisted on.
“What do you think of the volcano, Master Joshua?”
Sergeant Percival’s voice startled them. They had forgotten his shadowy presence, standing guard a step or two behind them.
Joshua would not dare to say what he thought to his tutor, but the former soldier was different. With him, you were not afraid of feeling silly, whereas academics could make you feel stupid, and frequently did.
“To be honest, Sergeant,” he said, in a quiet voice. “We expected there to be more life in it than this.”
A strange expression crossed the man’s face, half-way between a smile and a grimace.
“That’s understandable,” he said. “But believe me; you wouldn’t be standing here if it decided to erupt. I was in Naples, back in ’ninety-four, with a party of young gentlemen, similar to you, when it last put on a show – and when it does, Naples is close enough for anyone.”
They looked at him, incredulous.
“What was it like?” said Charlie. “We’ve only seen pictures in books.”
Sergeant Percival looked into the distance as he spoke.
“If I recall it right, it happened in the middle of July. There were several earth tremors within a few days, and some bursts of smoke and steam from the crater. Nothing much, but it gradually built up through the day, and the locals knew there was more to come. It was not dark at ten o’clock when the column of ash erupted, but it blotted out the light. Then a great crack appeared in one side of the rock, and molten lava started surging through the vents, one after another.
He stared into the mists of memory, gathering his thoughts.
“It was an eerie sight, watching from across the bay as the lava flow moved down the hillside, all through the night, burning and scorching everything in its path. It reached the centre of Torro del Greco at six o’clock the next morning,” he said, pointing down the hillside in the direction of the town. “It’s something I wouldn’t want to see again.”
They were transfixed. No written account could ever relate the event as Percival did, and continued to do so.
“I doubt if anyone in Naples slept that night. There was too much apprehension. The air was dry and dusty, from the clouds of stinking sulphur. The dust gets in everything – the food and water. In your ears and eyes, catches in your throat as well. It’s hard to describe the taste. Acrid, I suppose is the best word for it. That’s due to the sulphur.” He grimaced, and changed the subject.
“There’s nothing like that here now, but if you want sulphur springs, then Solfatara, on the Phlegraean Fields is the place to go. I think even you would agree it stinks just as a volcano should. Conditions in Naples are difficult now, but things might settle before we return home, and whenever that is, we will be sailing from Naples. If you ask the professor in advance, maybe he’ll agree to take you there.”
“How do you know all this?” said Charlie.
“Because I discussed it with Sir William Hamilton, the last time I was in Naples, and he’s been studying the Italian volcanoes for thirty years.”
“You… talked to the ambassador…” Joshua said in amazement, and then realised it sounded insulting.
Sergeant Percival gave a wry smile. “Yes, I did,” he said. “He’s a real gent, with a passion for the subject, and will talk with anyone who is interested.”
“Dr Hawley wanted to meet him, but he’s attending the King of Naples, in Palermo.”
“I know,” said the sergeant. “From what I heard, Bonaparte came a bit too close for comfort, late last year, so they moved the entire Royal Court to Sicily. I expect they’ll come back again, when things settle down.”
The depth of Sergeant Percival’s knowledge was amazing. Dr Hawley gained his information by studying books, and the soldier, from observations of life, but the way he told it made it far more interesting. They were so enthralled that they failed to hear Dr Hawley’s approach, until he spoke.
“If I may I have your attention, Masters’ Norbery and Cobarne? It’s time to leave.”
As Joshua turned to find his tutor standing a few feet behind them, he sensed Sergeant Percival moving away. Neither man acknowledged the other, but it was obvious from his pettish tone that Dr Hawley felt aggrieved, having heard the soldier telling of his meeting with the ambassador.
It made Joshua feel sad that even in this remote place, Dr Hawley, who preached tolerance and courtesy to everyone else, should display such a bigoted attitude. It was a wonder Gilbert from Linmore had not been ordered to accompany them simply to convey messages.
He pondered it all the way down the dusty path on foot, and during the tediously long ride back to their lodgings. However much his tutor might sulk, Joshua could not regret talking with Sergeant Percival, for he brought Vesuvius to life.
Despite his avowed intention to explore Pompeii on the morrow, Dr Hawley felt the full effects of a day in the saddle and the extra altitude on the volcano. He was so fatigued that he spent the day in bed, with his manservant attending to his needs, and then tottered outside the following day, looking decidedly weary.
The effects of dry heat and riding the mules took its effect on all of them, and Joshua and Charlie were equally glad of the rest.
Mules, they discovered, were not like the horses at Linmore, any more than the ancient coach was comfortable. Sergeant Percival promised to find something better for the journey beyond Naples.
While their tutor languished in his room, they drank lemonade and talked with Sergeant Percival about what to expect from Pompeii and Herculaneum. Having visited these places before, he spoke of things that Dr Hawley had not mentioned – things of which to be aware. Or at least, Gilbert did. Sergeant Percival seemed to be asleep.
“Percy’s been telling me about the Stabian Baths in Pompeii,” Gilbert said.
Percy, being the name he used for Sergeant Percival.
“What about them?” Joshua said.
Dr Hawley had read from one of his books about the mosaics on the vaulted ceiling and walls. They had their sketchpads ready and pencils sharpened, for what their tutor considered would be a high treat.
“Very sociable places baths were in Roman times, by all accounts.”
Their tutor said something similar, but not with a broad grin on his face. Maybe Dr Hawley did not understand something, and if so, things could be much more interesting. At least doing sketches meant their tutor was not droning on in what Charlie called his sepulchre voice.
It was lucky Gilbert got on well with Sergeant Percival, because they were much in each other’s company, passing messages between the former soldier and Dr Hawley. It seemed so silly for grown men not to talk to each other.
“Not as sociable as the Lupanarium, it seems.” Gilbert winked his eye.
“The Lupanarium…?” said Charlie. “What’s special about that?”
“It is a place near the baths, with some very colourful mosaics, where the Romans took their pleasure.” Sergeant Percival’s voice filled in the details.
They had thought he was dozing in the chair. His broad-brimmed hat covered his eyes, obscuring his expression, but his voice sounded perfectly serious and yet Joshua suspected an innuendo, the meaning of which eluded him.
By the third day, Dr Hawley recovered sufficiently to emerge from his room, intent on spending half a day exploring Pompeii. He still looked pale and wan, but he was determined.
“I must not deprive you of my company any longer, gentlemen. I think an hour or two in the fresh air at the amphitheatre would benefit all of us.”
Whilst Joshua and Charlie would happily have walked the short distance from their lodgings to the excavations, they knew that Dr Hawley needed to travel by coach. While he sat in the shade of his umbrella with his manservant nearby guarding a flagon of lemonade, they set off to explore the exposed parts of the amphitheatre.
Although the arena was open to the air, it was a strange feeling to be tramping up and down steps, weaving through doorways, around corners and sitting on dusty stone seats that until a few years before had been covered in lava. The knowledge that this had been hidden from sight made them reach for their sketching pads to note things of interest to discuss with Dr Hawley, and show the family at Linmore on their return.
Joshua could imagine his father viewing these scenes on his tour with Uncle Jack. Closer still, he wondered if Matthew had visited Pompeii, but closed his mind to the idea of meeting his brother on his travels. Some things it was better not to contemplate.
Everywhere they looked, Vesuvius was in the background, reminding them of its presence, and the fact that a few days ago, they stood on the ridge.
On subsequent days, they delved further inside the excavations, moving through tunnels, lit by lanterns, seeing more of the lava-buried secrets.
From there, Joshua took images in his mind of the relics overtaken in the disaster. Recording the visits in his journal, he found that words could not describe the feelings he experienced, when he walked through excavated chambers and corridors, sensing the terror of people trying to escape and seeing their petrified remains recreated in casts of concrete. It all seemed terribly depressing.
When they finally reached the Stabian Baths, there was scarcely time to do more than cast a glance over the wall frescoes, or note the nymphs and cupids on the vaulted ceiling, before Dr Hawley ushered them towards the Lupanarium. He stepped through the doorway, and stopped, rigid with horror.
“No,” he said. “This is not what I wished you to see. Avert your eyes, gentlemen, and come outside – at once.”
Between Joshua and Charlie passed a look of unholy mirth as the graphic extent of the mosaics dawned on their tutor, but the faces they turned to him were devoid of expression. This was the brothel about which Sergeant Percival told them, and if it was true to Roman life, it left nothing to the imagination.
Neither did the book of sermons to which they were subjected for the next hour, each quarter with the recurring theme.
There will be no fornication…
Every aspect of denial was explored, and Joshua was at a loss to know where Dr Hawley thought they would find the opportunity amongst the piles of volcanic dust and ancient relics.