“Truth!—­Yes, eccellenza, so true is he that if he were to tell me that the thing I saw myself had not and could not happen, I should rather believe Monsignore than believe my own eyes.  Still, Signori, eyes are something; and as the right reverend father has none, or what are as bad as none, for any use they can be in looking at a vessel half a mile off, he may not always see what he thinks he sees.  When Monsignore tells us that so and so is Gospel, we all believe it, for we know the time has been when he could read; but we never think of going to his door to ask which way a ship is steering, having the use of our own senses.”

“Can this fellow tell us the truth, Griffin?” asked Cuffe, a good deal mystified by Raoul’s artifice and his assumed simplicity.  “If so, we shall be going exactly on the wrong scent by hauling round Campanella and running into the Gulf of Salerno.  The French hold Gaeta yet, and it is quite likely that Master Yvard may wish to keep a friendly port open under his lee!”

“You forget, Captain Cuffe, that his lordship has sent a light cruiser already up that way, and le Feu-Follet would hardly dare to show herself near one of our regular fellows—­”

“Umph!—­I don’t know that, Mr. Griffin; I don’t exactly know that.  The Proserpine is a ‘regular fellow,’ after a fashion, at least; and the Few-Folly has dared to show herself to her.  Jack-o’-Lantern—­D—­n me, Griffin, but I think she is well named now, I’d rather chase a jack-o’-lantern in the Island of Sicily than be hunting after such a chap;—­first he’s here; then he’s there; and presently he’s nowhere.  As for the sloop, she’s gone south, at my suggestion, to look into the bays along the Calabrian coast.  I told Nelson I wanted another ship; for, just so certain as this Rule—­Raw-owl, what the d—–­ l do you call the pirate, Griffin?”

“Raoul, Captain Cuffe; Raoul Yvard is his name.  ’Tis thoroughly French.  Raoul means Rodolph.”

“Well, I told Nelson if this lad should get to dodging round one of the islands we might as well set about playing ‘puss in the corner’ by the week as to think of driving him off the land for a fair chase.  He works his boat like a stagecoach turning into an inn-yard!”

“I wonder my lord did not think of this and give us a sloop or two to help us.”

“Catch Nel. at that!—­He might send one Englishman to look after two Frenchmen; but he’d never dream of sending two Englishmen to look after one Frenchman.”

“But this is not a fighting matter, sir; only a chase—­and one Frenchman will run faster than two Englishmen any day of the week.”

“Sa-c-r-r-r-e," muttered Raoul, in a tone that he endeavored to suppress, and which was inaudible to all ears but those of Andrea Barrofaldi; the vice-governatore happening to stand nearer his person just at that moment than any other of the party.

“Very true,” answered Cuffe; “but so it is.  We are sent alone; and if this Few-Folly get in between Ischia and Procida, it will be easier to unearth the fox than to drive her out single-handed.  As for any more boat service against her, I suppose you’ve all had enough of that?”