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Updated: May 16, 2025
I shuddered involuntarily as I recollected the sacrifice of human victims at the island of Emo, and turned with a look of fear to Jack as I said, "Oh, Jack! I have a terrible dread that they are going to commit some of their cruel practices on these wretched men. We had better not go to the temple.
The teacher tells me, too, that the poor girl has fallen in love with a Christian chief, who lives on an island some fifty miles or so to the south of this one, and that she is meditating a desperate attempt at escape. So, you see, we have come in the nick of time. I fancy that this chief is the fellow whom you heard of, Ralph, at the island of Emo.
The teacher tells me, too, that the poor girl has fallen in love with a Christian chief, who lives on an island some fifty miles or so to the south of this one, and that she is meditating a desperate attempt at escape. So, you see, we have come in the nick of time. I fancy that this chief is the fellow whom you heard of, Ralph, at the Island of Emo.
Everything around this beautiful spot wore an aspect of peace and plenty; and as we dropped our anchor within a stone's-cast of the substantial coral wharf, I could not avoid contrasting it with the wretched village of Emo, where I had witnessed so many frightful scenes.
Chevalier Emo is deservedly a favourite with them, and we used to talk whole evenings of him and of General Elliott; the bombarding of Tunis, and defence of Gibraltar. The news-papers spoke of some fireworks exhibited in England in honour of their hero; they were "vrayment feux de joye" said an agreeable Venetian, they were not feux d'artifice.
'Did I rouse your higher emo 'Be quiet, will you! snarled the Jackal; 'I'm half dead with fear! So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry. 'Now is the time for friendship! said he to the Partridge. 'Get me a good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend.
As you know, for six days the brave podesta, Emo, and his troops have repulsed every attack; but yesterday an unforeseen accident occurred. While our soldiers were holding their own, as usual, a Genoese fire ship exploded in the canal behind them. The idea, unfortunately, seized the troops that the bridge was on fire.
The mountain tops, unlike those of our Coral Island, were sharp, needle-shaped, and bare, while their sides were more rugged and grand in outline than anything I had yet seen in those seas. Bloody Bill was beside me when the island first hove in sight. "Ha!" he exclaimed, "I know that island well. They call it Emo." "Have you been here before, then?" I inquired.
After much chafing and scolding, he ordered the offender back into the canoe, and forbade him to come again on board: not a word did the thief utter the whole time, and instantly obeyed the order to quit the vessel, but the old master could not be pacified. He frequently repeated, "Kabuderih emo aidarah," and his visit afforded him no more pleasure.
The next, with the little prophet's chamber on the façade and a fine Gothic window and balcony, is the fifteenth-century Erizzo. Then the Piovene, with fluted window pillars and marble decorations; then the Emo, another antiquity shop, with a fine view down the canal from its balcony. A traghetto is here, and then the Palazzo Molin, now a business house, and the Rio della Maddalena.
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