The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “He fully saw the force of my argument, but persisted in his determination. If you ask my opinion, therefore, signors, and you do not think the honour too great, I would suggest that the highest and most acceptable honour that could be bestowed upon him, would be that which you have at various times conferred upon foreign personages of distinction, namely, to grant him the freedom of Venice, and inscribe his name upon the list of her citizens, without requiring of him the renunciation of his own country, or the taking the oath of allegiance.”

  “The honour is assuredly a great and exceptional one,” the doge said, “but so is the service that he has rendered. He has converted what would have been a defeat into a victory, and has saved Venice from a grave peril.

  “Will you retire for a few minutes, signor, and we will then announce to you the result of our deliberations on the matter.”

  CHAPTER 12

  In Mocenigo’s Power

  It was fully an hour before Polani was recalled to the council chamber. He saw at once, by the flushed and angry faces of some of the council, that the debate had been a hot one. At this he was not surprised, for he knew that the friends and connections of Ruggiero Mocenigo would vehemently oppose the suggestion he had made.

  The doge announced the decision.

  “The council thank you for your suggestion, Signor Polani, and have resolved, by a majority, to confer upon Messer Francisco Hammond the high honour of placing his name upon the list of the citizens of Venice, without requiring from him the oaths of allegiance to the state. As such an honour has never before been conferred, save upon personages of the highest rank, it will be a proof of the gratitude which Venice feels towards one who has done her such distinguished service. The decree to that effect will be published tomorrow.”

  The merchant retired, highly gratified. The honour was a great and signal one, and the material advantages considerable. The fact that Francis was a foreigner had been the sole obstacle which had presented itself to him, in associating him with his business, for it would prevent Francis from trading personally with any of the countries in which Venetian citizens enjoyed special advantages.

  Francis was immensely gratified, when he heard from the merchant of the honour to be conferred upon him. It was of all others the reward he would have selected, had a free choice been given him, but it was so great and unusual an honour, that he could indeed scarcely credit it when the merchant told him the result of his interviews with the council. The difficulty which his being a foreigner would throw in the way of his career as a merchant in Eastern waters, had been frequently in his mind, and would, he foresaw, greatly lessen his usefulness, but that he should be able to obtain naturalization, without renouncing his allegiance to England, he had never even hoped.

  “It is a very high honour, doubtless,” Polani said, “but no whit higher than you deserve. Besides, after all, it costs Venice nothing, and money is scarce at present. At any rate, I can congratulate myself as well as you, for I foresaw many difficulties in our way. Although the ships carrying the Venetian flag could enter the ports of all countries trading with us, you would personally be liable to arrest, at any time, on being denounced as not being a native of Venice, which you assuredly would be by my rivals in trade.”

  The next day a bulletin was published, giving the substance of Pisani’s despatch, and announcing that, in token of the gratitude of the republic for the great service he had rendered, Messer Hammond would be at once granted the freedom of Venice, and his name inserted on the list of her citizens.

  During these two days the delight of Venice at the news of the victory had been extreme. The houses had been decorated with flags, and the bells of all the churches had peeled out joyously. Crowds assembled round the Polani Palace, and insisted upon Francis making his appearance, when they greeted him with tremendous shouts of applause. Upon the evening of the second day he said to Polani:

  “Have you any ship fit for sea, signor, because if so, I pray you to send me away, no matter where. I cannot stand this. Since the decree was published, this morning, I have not had a moment’s peace, and it is too absurd, when I did no more than any sailor on board the ship. If it went on, I should very soon be heartily sorry I ever interfered on behalf of the admiral.”

  The merchant smiled.

  “I have half promised to take you with me to the reception at the Persanis’ this evening, and have had a dozen requests of a similar nature for every night this week and next.”

  “Then, if you have no ship ready, signor, I will charter a fishing boat, engage a couple of men, and go off for a fortnight. By the end of that time something fresh will have happened.”

  “I can send you off, if you really wish it, Francisco, the first thing tomorrow morning. I am despatching a small craft with a message to my agent in Corfu, and with letters for my daughters. They will be delighted to see you, and indeed, I shall be glad to know that you are with them, until I can wind up several affairs which I have in hand, and join them myself. She is fast, and you should be at Corfu in eight-and-forty hours after sailing.”

  Francis gladly embraced the offer, and started the next morning. The vessel was a small one, designed either to sail or row. Her crew consisted of twenty men, who rowed sixteen sweeps when the wind was light or unfavourable. She was an open boat, except that she was decked at each end, a small cabin being formed aft for the captain, and any passengers there might be on board, while the crew stowed themselves in the little forecastle.

  When the boat was halfway across, a sail was seen approaching, and the captain recognized her as one of Polani’s vessels.

  “In that case,” Francis said, “we may as well direct our course so as to pass them within hailing distance. When you approach them, hoist the Polani flag, and signal to them to lay to.”

  This was done, and the two craft brought up within thirty yards of each other. The captain appeared at the side of the vessel, and doffed his cap when he recognized Francis.

  “Have you any news from the East?” the latter asked.

  “But little, signor. A few Genoese pirates are among the islands, and are reported to have made some captures, but I have seen none. There is nothing new from Constantinople. No fresh attempt has been made by the emperor to recapture Tenedos.”

  “Did you touch at Corfu on your way back?”

  “I left there yesterday, signor. A strange craft has been reported as having been seen on the coast. She carries no flag, but from her appearance she is judged to be a Moor.”

  “But we are at peace with the Moors,” Francis said, “and it is years since they ventured on any depredations, excepting on their own waters.”

  “That is so, signor, and I only tell you what was the report at Corfu. She appeared to be a swift craft, rowing a great many oars. Her movements certainly seem mysterious, as she has several times appeared off the coast. Two vessels which sailed from Cyprus, and were to have touched at Corfu, had not arrived there when I left, and they say that several others are overdue. I do not say that has anything to do with the strange galley, but it is the general opinion in Corfu that it has something to do with it, and I am the bearer of letters from the governor to the seignory, praying that two or three war ships may at once be sent down to the island.”

  “It looks strange, certainly,” Francis said; “but I cannot believe that any Moorish pirates would be so daring as to come up into Venetian waters.”

  “I should not have thought so either, signor; but it may be that, knowing there is war between Venice and Genoa, and that the state galleys of the republics, instead of being scattered over the seas, are now collected in fleets, and thinking only of fighting each other, they might consider it a good opportunity for picking prizes.”

  “It is a good opportunity, certainly,” Francis said; “but they would know that Venice would, sooner or later, reckon with them; and would demand a four-fold indemnity for any losses her merchants may have suffered.

  “However, I will not detain you longer. W
ill you tell Signor Polani that you met us, and that we were making good progress, and hoped to reach Corfu some time tomorrow?”

  “This is a curious thing about this galley,” the captain of the boat said to Francis, as the men again dipped their oars into the water, and the boat once more proceeded on the way.

  “It is much more likely to be a Genoese pirate than a Moor,” Francis said. “They may have purposely altered their rig a little, in order to deceive vessels who may sight them. It is very many years since any Moorish craft have been bold enough to commit acts of piracy on this side of Sicily. However, we must hope that we shall not fall in with her, and if we see anything answering to her description we will give it a wide berth. Besides, it is hardly likely they would interfere with so small a craft as ours, for they would be sure we should be carrying no cargo of any great value.”

  “Twenty Christian slaves would fetch money among the Moors,” the captain said. “Let us hope we shall see nothing of them; for we should have no chance of resistance against such a craft, and she would go two feet to our one.”

  The next morning Francis was aroused by a hurried summons from the captain. Half awake, and wondering what could be the cause of the call, for the boat lay motionless on the water, he hurried out from the little cabin. Day had just broken, the sky was aglow with ruddy light in the east.

  “Look there, signor!” the captain said, pointing to the south. “The watch made them out a quarter of an hour since, but, thinking nothing of it, they did not call me. What do you think of that?”

  Two vessels were lying in close proximity to each other, at a distance of about two miles from the boat. One of them was a large trader, the other was a long galley rigged quite differently to those of either Venice or Genoa.

  “That is the craft they were speaking of,” the captain said. “There is no mistaking her. She may be an Egyptian or a Moor, but certainly she comes from the African coast.”

  “Or is got up in African fashion,” Francis said. “She may be, as we agreed yesterday, a Genoese masquerading in that fashion, in order to be able to approach our traders without their suspicions being aroused. She looks as if she has made a captive of that vessel. I imagine she must have come up to her late yesterday evening, and has been at work all night stripping her. I hope she is too busy to attend to us.”

  The sail had been lowered the instant the captain caught sight of the vessels, for there was scarcely enough wind to fill it, and the men were now rowing steadily.

  “I do not think she could have taken much of her cargo out. She is very deep in the water.”

  “Very deep,” Francis agreed. “She seems to me to be deeper than she did three minutes ago.”

  “She is a great deal deeper than when we first caught sight of her,” one of the sailors said. “She stood much higher in the water than the galley did, and now, if anything, the galley stands highest.”

  “See!” the captain exclaimed suddenly, “the galley is rowing her oars on the port bow, and bringing her head round. She has noticed us, and is going to chase us! We have seen too much.

  “Row, men—it is for life! If they overtake us it is a question between death, and slavery among the Moors.”

  A sudden exclamation from one of the men caused the captain to glance round again at the galley. She was alone now on the water—the trader had sunk!

  “Do you take the helm, signor,” the captain said. “All hands will help at the oars.”

  Some of the oars were double banked, and beneath the strength of the twenty men, the boat moved fast through the water. The galley was now rowing all her oars, and in full pursuit. For a quarter of an hour not a word was spoken. Every man on board was doing his utmost. Francis had glanced backwards several times, and at the end of a quarter of an hour, he could see that the distance between the boat and her pursuer had distinctly lessened.

  “Is she gaining on us?” the captain asked, for the cabin in the stern hid the galley from the sight of the oarsmen.

  “She is gaining,” Francis said quietly, “but not rapidly. Row steadily, my lads, and do not despair. When they find how slowly they gain, they may give up the chase and think us not worth the trouble.

  “Jacopo,” he said to an old sailor who was rowing in the bow, and who already was getting exhausted from the exertion, “do you lay in your oar and come aft. I will take your place.”

  At the end of an hour the galley was little more than a quarter of a mile away.

  “We had better stop,” the captain said. “We have no chance of getting away, and the longer the chase the more furious they will be. What do you think, signor?”

  “I agree with you,” Francis replied. “We have done all that we could. There is no use in rowing longer.”

  The oars fell motionless in the water, and a few minutes later the long galley came rushing up by their side.

  “A fine row you have given us, you dogs!” a man shouted angrily as she came alongside. “If you haven’t something on board that will pay us for the chase we have had, it will be the worse for you. What boat is that?”

  “It is the Naxos, and belongs to Messer Polani of Venice. We are bound to Corfu, and bear letters from the padrone to his agent there. We have no cargo on board.”

  “The letters, perhaps, may be worth more than any cargo such a boat would carry. So come on board, and let us see what the excellent Polani says to his agent. Now, make haste all of you, or it will be the worse for you.”

  It was useless hesitating. The captain, Francis, and the crew stepped on board the galley.

  “Just look round her,” the captain said to one of his sailors. “If there is anything worth taking, take it, and then knock a hole in her bottom with your axe.”

  Francis, as he stepped on board the galley, looked round at the crew. They were not Genoese, as he had expected, but a mixture of ruffians from all the ports in the Mediterranean, as he saw at once by their costumes. Some were Greeks from the islands, some Smyrniots, Moors, and Spaniards; but the Moors predominated, nearly half the crew belonging to that race.

  Then he looked at the captain, who was eagerly perusing the documents the captain had handed him. As his eye fell upon him, Francis started, for he recognized at once the man whose designs he had twice thwarted, Ruggiero Mocenigo, and felt that he was in deadly peril.

  After reading the merchant’s communication to his agent, Ruggiero opened the letter addressed to Maria. He had read but a few lines when he suddenly looked up, and then, with an expression of savage pleasure in his face, stepped up to Francis.

  “So, Messer Hammond, the good Polani sends you to stay for a while with his daughters! Truly, when I set out in chase this morning of that wretched rowboat, I little deemed that she carried a prize that I valued more than a loaded caravel! It is to you I owe it that I am an exile, instead of being the honoured son-in-law of the wealthy Polani. It was your accursed interference that brought all my misfortunes upon me; but thank Heaven my vengeance has come at last!

  “Take them all below,” he said, turning to his men. “Put the heaviest irons you have got on this fellow, and fasten them with staples into the deck.

  “You thought I was going to hang you, or throw you overboard,” he went on, turning to Francis. “Do not flatter yourself that your death will be so easy a one—you shall suffer a thousand torments before you die!”

  Francis had not spoken a word since Ruggiero first turned to him, but had stood with a tranquil and almost contemptuous expression upon his face; but every nerve and muscle of his body were strained, and in readiness to spring into action. He had expected that Ruggiero would at once attack him, and was determined to leap upon him, and to sell his life as dearly as possible.

  The sailors seized Francis and his companions, and thrust them down into the hold, which was already crowded with upwards of a hundred captives. He was chained with heavy manacles. In obedience to Ruggiero’s orders, staples were driven through the links of his chain deep into the deck, so that he
was forced to remain in a sitting or lying posture. The captain of the Naxos came and sat beside him.

  “Who is this pirate captain, Messer Francisco, who thus knows and has an enmity against you? By his speech he is surely a Venetian. And yet, how comes a Venetian in command of a pirate?”

  “That man is Ruggiero Mocenigo—the same who twice attempted to carry off Messer Polani’s daughters. The second time he succeeded, and would have been tried for the offence by the state had he not, aided by a band of Paduans, escaped from the keeping of his guard.”

  “Of course I heard of it, signor. I was away at sea at the time, but I heard how you came up at the moment when the padrone’s gondoliers had been overcome, and rescued his daughters. And this is that villain Mocenigo, a disgrace to his name and family!”

  “Remember the name, captain, and tell it to each of your men, so that if they ever escape from this slavery, into which, no doubt, he intends to sell you, they may tell it in Venice that Ruggiero Mocenigo is a pirate, and an ally of the Moors. As for me, there is, I think, but small chance of escape; but at any rate, if you ever reach Venice, you will be able to tell the padrone how it was that we never arrived at Corfu, and how I fell into the hands of his old enemy. Still, I do not despair that I may carry the message myself. There is many a slip between the cup and the lip, and Mocenigo may have cause, yet, to regret that he did not make an end of me as soon as he got me into his hands.”