by G. A. Henty
He himself engaged hand-to-hand with the commander of the Venetian galley, and at the third thrust ran him through the throat; but the Venetians, although they had yielded to the first onslaught, again poured over the bulwarks of the galley. Polani, burning to punish the man who had so repeatedly tried to injure him, accompanied them, Francis keeping close beside him.
“Ruggiero Mocenigo, traitor and villain, your time has come!”
Ruggiero started at hearing his name thus proclaimed, for on board his own ship he was simply known as the captain; but in the dim light he recognized Polani, and at once crossed swords with him.
“Be not so sure, Polani. Perhaps it is your time that has come.”
The two engaged with fury. Polani was still strong and vigorous. His opponent had the advantage of youth and activity. But Polani’s weight and strength told, and he was forcing his opponent back, when his foot slipped on the bloodstained deck. He fell forward; and in another moment Ruggiero would have run him through the body; had not the weapon been knocked up by Francis, who, watching every movement of the fight, sprang forward when he saw the merchant slip.
“This time, Ruggiero, my hands are free. How about your vengeance now?”
Ruggiero gave a cry of astonishment, at seeing the lad whom he believed to be lying in chains, five hundred miles away, facing him. For a moment he recoiled, and then with the cry, “I will take it now,” sprang forward. But this time he had met an opponent as active and as capable as himself.
For a minute or two they fought on even terms, and then Ruggiero fell suddenly backwards, a crossbow bolt, from one of the Venetians on the poop of the vessel, having struck him full in the forehead.
Without their leader, the spirit of the pirates had fled. They still fought, steadily and desperately, but it was only to sell their lives as dearly as possible; and in five minutes after the fall of Ruggiero the last man was cut down, for no quarter was given to pirates.
Just as the combat concluded, the sound of oars was heard, and the other two galleys came up to the assistance of their consort. They arrived too late to take part in the conflict, but cheered lustily when they heard that the pirate captain, and all his crew, had been killed. Upon learning that the commander of the galley was killed, the captain next in seniority assumed the command.
In a few minutes, the bodies of the pirates were thrown overboard, the wounded were carried below to have their wounds attended to, while the bodies of those who had fallen—thirteen in number—were laid together on the deck, for burial on shore.
“Thanks to you, Francisco, that I am not lying there beside them,” the merchant said. “I did not know that you were so close at hand, and as I slipped I felt that my end had come.”
“You were getting the better of him up to that point,” Francis said. “I was close at hand, in readiness to strike in should I see that my aid was wanted, but up to the moment you slipped, I believed that you would have avenged your wrongs yourself.”
“It is well that he fell as he did. It would have been dreadful, indeed, had he been carried to Venice, to bring shame and disgrace upon a noble family. Thank God, his power for mischief is at an end! I have had no peace of mind since the day when you first thwarted his attempt to carry off the girls; nor should I have ever had, until I obtained sure tidings that he was dead. The perseverance with which he has followed his resolve, to make my daughter his wife, is almost beyond belief. Had his mind been turned to other matters, he was capable of attaining greatness, for no obstacle would have barred his way.
“It almost seems as if it were a duel between him and you to the death—his aim to injure me, and yours to defend us. And now it has ended. Maria will breathe more freely when she hears the news, for, gay and light hearted as she is, the dread of that man has weighed heavily upon her.”
The governor, who from the poop of the vessel had watched the conflict, now came up, and warmly congratulated Francis upon his bravery.
“I saw you rush forward, just as my friend Polani fell, and engage his assailant. At first I thought you lost, for the villain was counted one of the best swordsmen in Venice, and you are still but a lad; but I saw you did not give way an inch, but held your own against him; and I believe you would have slain him unaided, for you were fighting with greater coolness than he was. Still, I was relieved when I saw him fall, for even then the combat was doubtful, and his men, to do them justice, fought like demons. How comes it that one so young as you should be so skilled with your weapon?”
“This is not the first time that my young friend has done good service to the state,” Polani said; “for it was he who led a crew of one of my ships to the aid of Pisani, when his galley was boarded by the Genoese, at the battle of Antium.”
“Is this he?” the governor said, in surprise. “I heard, of course, by the account of those who came from Venice a month since, how Pisani was aided, when hard pressed, by the crew of one of your ships, headed by a young Englishman, upon whom the state had conferred the rights of citizenship as a recognition of his services; but I did not dream that the Englishman was but a lad.
“What is your age, young sir?”
“I am just eighteen,” Francis replied. “Our people are all fond of strong exercise, and thus it was that I became more skilled, perhaps, than many of my age, in the use of arms.”
At nine o’clock the squadron arrived in the port, bringing with them the captured galley. As soon as they were seen approaching, the church bells rang, flags were hung out from the houses, and the whole population assembled at the quay to welcome the victors and to hear the news.
“Do you go on at once, directly we land, Francisco, and set the girls’ minds at ease. I must come on with the governor, and he is sure to be detained, and will have much to say before he can make his way through the crowd.”
Francis was, on his arrival at the governor’s, recognized by the domestics, and at once shown into the room where the girls were awaiting him. The fact that the pirate galley had been captured was already known to them, the news having been brought some hours before, by a horseman, from the other side of the island.
“Where is our father?” Maria exclaimed, as Francis entered alone.
“He is well, and sent me on to relieve your minds.”
“Saint Mark be praised!” Maria said. “We have been sorely anxious about you both. A messenger, who brought the news, said that it could be seen from the shore that there was a desperate fight on board the pirate ship, which was attacked by one galley only. We felt sure that it would be the ship that the governor was in, and we knew you were with him; and our father was so enraged at what had happened, that we felt sure he would take part in the fight.”
“He did so,” Francis said, “and himself engaged hand-to-hand with Mocenigo, and would probably have killed him, had not his foot slipped on the deck. I was, of course, by his side, and occupied the villain until a cross bolt pierced his brain. So there is an end to all your trouble with him.”
“Is he really dead?” Maria said. “Oh, Francisco, how thankful I am! He seemed so determined, that I began to think he was sure some day to succeed in carrying me off. Not that I would ever have become his wife, for I had vowed to kill myself before that came about. I should have thought he might have known that he could never have forced me to be his wife.”
“I told him the same thing,” Francis said, “and he replied that he was not afraid of that, for that he should have your sister in his power also, and that he should warn you that, if you laid hands on yourself, he should make her his wife instead of you.”
The girls both gave an exclamation of horror.
“I never thought of that,” Maria said; “but he would indeed have disarmed me with such a threat. It would have been horrible for me to have been the wife of such a man; but I think I could have borne it rather than have consigned Giulia to such a fate.
“Oh, here is father!”
“I have got away sooner than I expected,” Polani said as he e
ntered. “The governor was good enough to beg me to come on at once to you. You have heard all the news, I suppose, and know that our enemy will persecute you no more.”
“We have heard, papa, and also that you yourself fought with him, which was very wrong and very rash of you.”
“And did he tell you that had it not been for him I should not be here alive now, girls?”
“No, father. He said that when you slipped he occupied Ruggiero’s attention until the cross bolt struck him.”
“That is what he did, my dear; but had he not occupied his attention I should have been a dead man. The thrust was aimed at me as I fell, and would have pierced me had he not sprung forward and turned it aside, and then engaged in single combat with Mocenigo, who, with all his faults, was brave and a skillful swordsman; and yet, as the governor himself said, probably Francisco would have slain him, even had not the combat ended as it did.
“And now we must have his story in full. I have not heard much about it yet, and you have heard nothing; and I want to know how he managed to get out of the hands of that man, when he had once fallen into them.”
“That is what we want to know, too, father. We know what a sharp watch was kept upon us, and I am sure they must have been much more severe with him.”
“They were certainly more severe,” Francis said smiling, “for my right hand was chained to my left ankle, and the left hand to to my right ankle—not tightly, you know, but the chain was so short that I could not stand upright. But, on the other hand, I do not think my guards were as vigilant as yours. However, I will tell you the whole story.”
The girls listened with rapt attention to the story of the capture, the escape, and of his hiding in the hold of the pirate in order to be able to give them a warning in time.
“Your escape was fortunate, indeed,” the merchant said when he had finished. “Fortunate both for you and for us, for I have no doubt that Mocenigo had intended to put you to a lingering death, on his return. As for the girls, nothing could have saved them from the fate he designed for them, save the method which you took of arriving here before him.”
“What are we to do for him, father?” Maria exclaimed. “We are not tired of thanking him, but he hates being thanked. If he would only get into some terrible scrape, Giulia and I would set out to rescue him at once; but you see he gets out of his scrapes before we hear of them. It is quite disheartening not to be able to do anything.”
Francis laughed merrily.
“It is terrible, is it not, signora? But if I manage to get into any scrape, and have time to summon you to my assistance, be sure I will do so. But, you see, one cannot get into a scrape when one chooses, and I must be content, while I am away, in knowing that I have the good wishes of you and your sister.”
“Do not trouble yourself, Maria,” her father said. “Some day an opportunity may come for our paying our debts, and in the meantime Francis is content that we should be his debtors.”
“And now, what are you going to do, papa?”
“I shall sail with you for Venice tomorrow. The governor will be sending one of the galleys with the news of the capture of the pirate, and doubtless he will give us all a passage in her. I shall order steps to be taken at once for rebuilding the villa, and will get it completed by the spring, before which time you will be off my hands, young lady; and I shall not be altogether sorry, for you have been a very troublesome child lately.”
“It has not been my fault,” Maria pouted.
“Not at all, my dear. It has been your misfortune, and I am not blaming you at all.”
“But the trouble is now over, father!”
“So much the better for Rufino,” the merchant said. “It will be good news to him that you are freed from the persecution of Ruggiero. And now, I must leave you, for I have arranged to ride over with the governor to the other side of the island. He has to investigate the damage which took place last evening. I hear that upwards of a score of villas were sacked and destroyed, and that many persons were killed; and while he is doing that I shall see what has to be done at our place. I don’t know whether the walls are standing, or whether it will have to be entirely rebuilt, and I must arrange with some builder to to go over from here with me, and take my instructions as to what must be done.”
On the following day the party set sail for Venice, where they arrived without adventure. Preparations were at once begun for the marriage of Maria with Rufino Giustiniani, and six weeks later the wedding ceremony took place. Francis did not go to sea until this was over, for when he spoke of a fresh voyage, a short time after their return, Maria declared that she would not be married unless he remained to be present.
“You have got me out of all my scrapes hitherto, Francisco, and you must see me safely through this.”
As Signor Polani also declared that it was not to be thought of, that Francis should leave until after the marriage, he was obliged to remain for it. He was glad, however, when it was over, for he found the time on shore more tedious than usual. The girls were taken up with the preparations for the ceremony, and visitors were constantly coming and going, and the house was not like itself.
But even when the marriage was over, he was forced to remain some time longer in Venice. The Genoese fleets were keeping the sea, and Pisani had not, since the battle of Antium, succeeded in coming up with them. The consequence was that commerce was at a standstill, for the risk of capture was so great that the merchants ceased to send their ships to sea.
“The profit would not repay us for the risk, Francisco,” the merchant said one day when they were talking over it. “If only one cargo in ten fell into their hands the profit off the other nine would be swept away; but as I see that you are longing to be afloat again, you can, if you like, join one of the state galleys which start next week to reinforce Pisani’s fleet.
“The last time Pisani wrote to me he said how glad he should be to have you with him; and after your service at Antium, I have no doubt whatever that I could procure for you a post as second in command in one of the ships. What do you say?”
“I should certainly like it, signor, greatly; but, as you said before, it would be a mere waste of time for me to take service with the state, when I am determined upon the vocation of a merchant.”
“I did say that, Francis, and meant it at the time; but at present trade is, as you see, at a standstill, so you would not be losing time, and, in the next place, it is always an advantage, even to a trader, to stand well with the state. Here in Venice all the great merchants are of noble family, and trade is no bar to occupying the highest offices of the state. Many of our doges have been merchants; while merchants are often soldiers, diplomatists, or governors, as the state requires their services.
“You have already, you see, obtained considerable benefit by the action at Antium. I do not say that you would derive any direct benefit, even were you to distinguish yourself again as highly as on that occasion. Still, it is always well to gain the consideration of your fellows, and to be popular with the people. Therefore, if you would like to take service with the state until this affair is decided with Genoa, and the seas are again open to our ships, I think it will be advantageous to you rather than not.”
“Then, with your permission I will certainly do so, signor,” Francis said. “Of course I should prefer to go as an officer on board one of the ships; but if not, I will go as a volunteer.”
“You need not fear about that, Francis. With my influence, and that of the Giustiniani, and the repute you have gained for yourself, you may be sure of an appointment. Rufino would have commanded one of the ships had it not been for his marriage.”
Rufino Giustiniani had indeed been most warm in his expressions of gratitude to Francis, to whom the whole family had shown the greatest attention, giving him many presents as a proof of their goodwill and gratitude.
“I am quite jealous of your English friend,” Rufino had said one day to Maria. “I do believe, Maria, that you care for him more than
you do for me. It is lucky for me that he is not two or three years older.”
Maria laughed.
“I do care for him dearly; and if he had been, as you say, older and had fallen in love with me, I can’t say how it would have been. You must acknowledge, it would be very hard to say no to a man who keeps on saving you from frightful peril; but then, you see, a girl can’t fall in love with a man who does not fall in love with her.
“Francisco is so different from us Venetians. He always says just what he thinks, and never pays anyone even the least bit of a compliment. How can you fall in love with a man like that? Of course you can love him like a brother—and I do love Francisco as if he were my brother—but I don’t think we should have got further than that, if he had been ever so old.”
“And does Francis never pay you compliments, Giulia?”
“Never!” Giulia said decidedly. “It would be hateful of him if he did.”
“But Maria doesn’t object to compliments, Giulia. She looks for them as if they were her daily bread—
“Don’t you, Maria—
“You will have to learn to put up with them soon, Giulia, for you will be out in society now, and the young men will crowd round your chair, just as they have done round that of this little flirt, your sister.”
“I shall have to put up with it, I suppose,” Giulia said quietly, “just as one puts up with other annoyances. But I should certainly never get to care for anyone who thinks so little of me, as to believe that I could be pleased by being addressed in such terms.”
“From which I gather,” Giustiniani said, smiling, “that this English lad’s bluntness of speech pleases you more than it does Maria?”
“It pleases Maria, too,” Giulia said, “though she may choose to say that it doesn’t. And I don’t think it quite right to discuss him at all, when we all owe him as much as we do.”
Giustiniani glanced at Maria and gave a little significant nod.