“It is the art of war, dearest; without it we should soon be outwitted by these knaves of English.  Si—­si, S’nori; we all said just that concerning her looks and rig.”

“Will you sheer your boat alongside, friend,” inquired Griffin, “and come on board of us?  We have a ducat here that wants an owner; I fancy it will fit your pocket as well as another’s.  We will haul you ahead, abreast of the gangway.”

“Oh, Raoul, do not think of this rash act!” whispered Ghita; “the vice-governatore or the podesta will recollect you; and then all will be lost!”

“Fear nothing, Ghita—­a good cause and a keen wit will carry me through; while the least hesitation might, indeed, ruin us.  These English first ask, and then take without asking, if you tell them no.  Corpo di Bacco! who ever heard, either, of a lazzarone’s refusing a ducat!”

Raoul then whispered a few words to Ithuel, when, the boat being by this time far enough ahead, he gave it a sheer alongside of the ship, seized a man-rope, and went up the cleets as actively as a cat.  It is certain not a soul on board that fine frigate had the least suspicion of the true character of the individual who now confidently trod her quarter-deck.  The young man himself loved the excitement of such an adventure, and he felt the greater confidence in his impunity, from the circumstance that there was no other light than that of the moon.  The sails, too, cast their shadows upon deck; and then, neither of the two Italians was a wizard at detecting impostors, as he knew by experience.

The watch was set for the night, and Winchester, who had returned to duty, held the trumpet, while Griffin had no other immediate office but to interpret.  Two or three midshipmen were lounging about the quarter-deck; here and there a seaman was on the lookout, at the halyards, or on a cathead; some twenty or thirty old sea-dogs were pacing the gangways or the forecastle, with their arms crossed and hands stuck in their jackets; and a quick-eyed, active quartermaster stood near the man at the wheel, conning the ship.  The remainder of the watch had stowed themselves between the guns or among the booms, in readiness to act, but in truth dozing.  Cuffe, Griffin, and the two Italians descended from the taffrail and awaited the approach of the supposed lazzarone or boatman of Capri, as he was now believed to be, near the stern of the vessel.  By an arrangement among themselves, Vito Viti became the spokesman; Griffin translating to the captain all that passed in an undertone as soon as it was uttered.

“Come hither, friend,” commenced the podesta, in a patronizing but somewhat lofty manner; “this generous and noble English captain, Sir Kooffe, desires me to present you with a ducat, by way of showing that he asks no more of you than he is willing to pay for, A ducat[7] is a great deal of money, as you know; and good pay merits good services.”

[7] The silver ducat of Naples is worth 80 grani, or rather less than 80 cents:  the golden ducat, or sequin, of Italy, Holland, Turkey, etc., is worth a trifle more than two American dollars.  Raoul was offered the former.